


This Is What Makes Us Girls

by bloominginthenight



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Crossdressing, Drag, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, Gen, Nonbinary Character, Post-Canon, Queer Themes, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, drag kings, it's akira surpise surprise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-24 07:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30068634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominginthenight/pseuds/bloominginthenight
Summary: In which the P5R girls all stumble into Crossroads for different reasons and Lala Escargot realises that sometimes, all you need to be happy is your chosen family of five daughters and one non-binary troublemaker.Written for P5(R/S) Girls Week.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist (Mentioned), Lala Escargot & Kurusu Akira, Niijima Makoto/Okumura Haru, Suzui Shiho/Takamaki Ann
Comments: 27
Kudos: 115





	1. Makoto (Insults + Wings)

**Author's Note:**

> Here's me participating with a story idea that hasn't left my brain for months! Alternative title: how many lesbians can Laurie fit in this fic before it becomes awkward? So yeah, this story won't just have lesbians (and bisexuals!), but also mentions of non-binary and transgender identity and the accompanying struggles (light-hearted, though!). There's also drag kings because I never see those represented in media. I'm indulging.
> 
> TW for violence and resulting injuries in the fourth chapter. I also use the term "queer" liberally as a queer enby person myself.
> 
> I strayed a bit from canon by making Crossroads a completely queer bar. Also, the focus is on the girls and Lala, but Akira plays a big part too for reasons and Shuake is talked about. Goro never appears though. He's an enthusiastic feminist and gave Haru his fandom screentime for Girls Week.
> 
> Most things are based on my own experience jobbing at a queer café. The pandemic makes me miss it more than ever.  
> I'll try to upload daily if I finish the chapters in time!

The girl is completely out of place. There's not a single kink in her white blouse or her black skirt, her whole appearance way too immaculate for someone loitering around Shinjuku at this time of night. True to her apparent foreignness, she seems to sink deeper into her booth with every passing second spent stirring the colourful drink she ordered with a stutter—non-alcoholic, of course. Crossroads doesn't serve alcohol to people who might as well have the word "minor" tattooed on their forehead.

Lala thinks she might be a cop. Or at least a part-timer, whatever a high-schooler can get up to these days to indulge in a childish sense of justice. And if she's not here to look for dirt where Lala has made sure for years that her bar stays clean and devoid of any suspicious activity, then she's probably a stuck-up lesbian who's not sure how to go about meeting birds of her feather and figured the best way to start is a seedy queer bar in the heart of the red light district. From the way the girl is eyeing her with the greatest curiosity as Lala is smoking her cigarette behind the bar, she is sure the poor thing has never seen a woman of her kind before.

She knows this type of girl. Sheltered, spoiled, privileged. Daddy's little girl who got read good night stories about how evil the world is and how bars like this one and women like her are illegal by default and need to be extinguished from the face of the earth.

Lala debates bringing her tap water from the men's bathroom just to spite her. Then again, there's no confirmation that Miss White Blouse over there really is looking for anything suspicious.

That's why Lala busies herself with entertaining other customers after a while—she knows the other won't find whatever she's looking for.

It's when she's bidding goodnight to Ichiko and goes to clean her usual array of empty glasses that she hears someone clearing her throat. The sound is small, almost shy. Lala takes a drag of her cigarette and knows who it is before she turns around.

She almost forgot about the high schooler cop-wannabe lesbian, or whatever she is.

"We don't serve alcohol to minors," Lala says before the girl has a chance to speak up, crossing her arms.

She seems to be taken aback by that. Her eyes widen in disbelief. "Excuse me?" she asks, her voice cracking mid-way. Lala almost snorts at it.

"I saw you eyeing the bar before, Miss. Should I call your high school to pick you up?"

The girl blinks in confusion. Lala is satisfied. "I'm-I'm in college," she stutters, before she catches herself. "Wait, that's not even what I wanted to ask! I actually have a... different concern."

"You a cop?" Lala just outright asks her, not even letting her finish.

"You think I am here undercover?" she asks back, apparently finally getting the reason for Lala's hostility. "I can assure you that I'm not with the police."

Lala takes a good look at her. She sees her grow uncomfortable under her gaze. Good. While intimidating adolescents like this one normally isn't in her book, she wants it to be clear that Crossroads is far from a place deserving of groundless suspicion.

"If that's really the case, what's a young one like you doing here at this time of night?" she huffs. "Shinjuku will chew you up and spit you out if you're not careful." It only occurs to Lala then that she probably shouldn't expose her any more to secondhand smoke than she already did, so she quickly stubs out her cigarette.

The girl looks grateful at the motion. "I think a friend of mine is working here? I might have some questions about him."

Immediately, Lala's frown turns deeper. Only one person beside her is employed here and she's already reluctant about his involvement. If the kid weren't so hellbent on working here, coming in almost every week until Lala caved and talked details with him, she would have probably never went through the trouble of additional paperwork just for some extra hands on busier nights. In the back of her mind, she suspects the boy is in it less for the generous payment and more for the chance to be in a place that lets him be himself. At least he doesn't talk back when Lala urges him out before his shift officially ends just so he can get home safely.

It figures that someone from his circle would get suspicious. Lala curses her part-timer for apparently getting vocal about his night job. Or maybe she's just bluffing because she actually is a cop. Theories, theories.

"No one's working here besides myself," she huffs. "And if you're interested, Crossroads is not currently looking." She almost adds "now scram" to the end of the sentence, but then again, she's not that mean, even when faced with an overbearing adolescent. She should probably even call a cab for her later. Coming to Shinjuku this late just for intel was not a wise move on her part.

"I know for a fact Akira works here. Would you please just answer a concern of mine?" The girl tries to stand tall, her eyes never leaving Lala's, but she can see the slight blush already forming on her cheeks. She's flustered about being here. Probably not doing this whole interrogation thing all too often.

Lala takes a moment to think about her answer. The girl has his name down. No reason to lie about that, then. "It depends on the concern."

She sighs. "Akira has been... distant, to say the least. He keeps ignoring our invitations, saying he has to work, and since he mentioned working here in the past, I wanted to inquire about his... well-being, you could say."

"Distant, huh?" Lala says. "That's the only reason you came here?"

At that, the girl finally breaks eye contact and looks away. "Probably. In any case, I'm sorry for assuming and giving such a negative impression. We are all just very worried about him."

Lala softens a little bit at those words. The kid can count himself lucky to have friends that look out for him and even visit the red light district just to try to grill his boss and find out what might be wrong with him.

"He's only working the weekends these days. I'm not making a high schooler work through finals," she says then to clear at least that up. "You've got guts, confronting his boss like that."

She flusters at the statement which Lala actually means as indirect praise. "Sorry…" The embarrassment on her face is not really fitting, Lala thinks. She obviously has spine, but if she folds as quickly as that…

"No need to be sorry, dear. You took my insults in stride. I wish I could actually help." Has her part-timer really been that difficult towards his friends? Lala wishes she could just brush it off as co-worker troubles outside of her bubble, but over the past few months, the kid has really grown on her. She would even go as far as to say he reminds her of herself when she was his age.

Miss White Blouse makes a sad sight, even if she tries to hide her disappointment by keeping her head up. Her eyes still don't meet Lala's. "I suppose it was worth a shot. Akira has just never been so… secretive." she sighs. "Or… I suppose I never really asked him if he needs help with anything. Or how he is."

Lala suddenly gets reminded of something Akira said just a few shifts ago. A suspicion hammers itself into her head. If she's right about it…

"I think I have a hunch," she starts, "but I can't just tell you what he trusted me with. What kind of co-worker would I be?" She laughs.

"But that's-!" the girl says, then interrupts herself and sighs. "So you do know something."

"Just a suspicion. It's nothing bad, little Miss, otherwise I wouldn't laugh about it. Try to get him to open up a bit more, will you?"

She nods slowly. Lala can practically see the question burning in her eyes: why would Akira's boss know more about his struggles than his close friends? She almost smirks. Trust Mama Lala to get people to open up.

The girl backs away from the bar. She seems displeased, but not unsatisfied. "I trust you that it's nothing to worry too much about." There's an unspoken "but" at the end of her sentence that Lala stubs out quickly.

"Good. I wouldn't entertain myself with the problems of my part-timer normally, so be glad for the information." Lies. She is glad that Akira went from saying less than five words a shift to the talkative oversharer he is nowadays. It makes it easier for Lala to be one of the few responsible adults in his life and give him advice from a much more experienced angle.

She keeps quiet for a moment, fiddling with the hems of her blouse. "Yes," she says then. "I'll… be taking my leave now. Thank you for the information."

"You want me to call you a cab?" Lala asks as she turns. "Girls shouldn't be out alone at this time of night."

She seems surprised at the offer. "Uh, no?" her voice is back to the shy tone from before. "But thank you. I know Aikido, if it worries you less."

And in an instant, she's gone. Lala watches the door fall shut behind her. A few customers who entertained themselves with watching the scene begin to turn away and Lala too turns back to the dishes she left unattended.

Aikido, huh? Lala smiles. Yeah, that's more fitting for her than the white blouse.

Not the weirdest person her part-timer has associated himself with, but she certainly left an impression nonetheless. Lala would have to make sure to confront him the next time he worked a shift. Akira should be glad to have friends like her looking out for him.

Nevertheless, Lala doesn't think too much about it for the rest of the night, Crossroads' colourful clientele keeping her on her toes as always as she's serving drinks and food, wipes down tables and listens to the same stories she never grows tired of.

* * *

"Back again, Miss White Blouse?"

Lala puts a drink down in front of her without looking to see her reaction. She can still hear the small gasp and has to suppress a smirk. Good. This girl deserves to be thrown off guard in the nicest way once in a while.

"Please, my name is Makoto Nijima," she says all flustered, "I... don't think I ordered yet?"

"Are you going to refuse a free drink, Makoto-chan? House specialty. Non-alcoholic for the college student, my dear." Now that she's said it, Lala thinks the name suits her, even if the ridiculous clothing-inspired nickname had a certain appeal to it.

She looks even more confused at the suffix. Probably not used to it anymore now that she's actually pursuing a degree. If she doesn't like it, she doesn't comment on it, though. "Uh, thank you… may I ask your name? I don't think I've heard Akira mention it before…"

Lala thinks about making her usual grand gesture to introduce herself. But the days when Lala Escargot was a flamboyant diva in drag are long over. Nowadays she's just a flashy woman tending to a bar and its customers. She wouldn't have it any other way, though.

"Call me Lala-chan, dear. Or Mama Lala, whatever suits you," she hums.

Makoto looks clearly uncomfortable with both choices. Lala doesn't care about it. If she comes to Crossroads more often, she would soon learn that it's only Lala-chan in here. Most of her customers are like family to her. She wouldn't want any forced politeness to stand in between them.

"So, what brings you back to Crossroads, Makoto-chan?" Lala sinks down into the seat opposite from her, making it clear that she is here to pry. Is it about Akira? Did he finally come clean about what Lala suspected was the problem?

"I'm just here for a drink tonight," Makoto says, surprising her. "So, thank you for already taking care of that… Lala-san."

Lala lets the honorific slide in favour of staring critically at her. "At Crossroads, of all bars? Really? You do know the expected clientele here?" Or maybe she just went to a bar she was already sort of familiar with. 

Makoto's eyes glide to the bar counter to the only two regulars here tonight: A woman dressed in a business suit and a red-faced man who's busy with something on his phone. Lala knows it won't be long before more customers arrive, ones that are way more talkative than those, so she's using the time now to slack off and interrogate her. 

"Expected clientele…?" she repeats. "I thought this was just a normal bar?"

"Oh honey," Lala sighs. "Like I said, we don't do any shady stuff at Crossroads. This is a queer bar. People not familiar with the place normally only ever come because no other bar quite fits the bill."

Makoto takes a deep breath. Oh no, Lala thinks. So she was right on the money about it.

"I know." There's the confirmation. She says the words with wavering confidence, but it's confidence nonetheless. "I wanted to broaden my horizons somewhat. There's so much I don't know yet…"

Lala could ask her to specify. Could entangle her into a conversation until she learns details; details that the girl probably doesn't even know about herself yet. But she knows from her own experience how hard this topic can be to talk about during one’s youth. Especially if the girl not only looks the part, but has the tight upbringing too.

She laughs instead. "Then I take back my confusion. Make yourself right at home, darling. Feel free to grab a seat at the bar with me before they are all gone."

Makoto seems to lose a bit of her stiffness at the words. She smiles, absentmindedly stirring her drink with her straw. "Maybe I will. But I'm content to just be here now."

Lala smiles. She can already see her lose a bit of her initial apprehension. So she stands up and says: "The offer's there, honey. I wouldn't mind learning if college is still a hellish place. There's a reason I dropped out back then."

"Oh, tell me about it," Makoto sighs, not even commenting about her being a drop out, and Lala knows she got her.

For the rest of the night, she makes it her duty to entangle the girl in as much conversation as possible just to gradually observe the tension flowing out of her shoulders. 

They don't really talk about the Akira situation, but Lala has a hunch that it's not resolved yet anyways.

"I suppose I should be going now," Makoto says after a while. Lala throws a look at the clock. It's certainly later than the last time she was here. She seems to have grown a bit more comfortable with the place.

"Let me call you a cab, Makoto-chan," Lala already walks over to the telephone.

Makoto tries to stop her with a wave of her hand. "The station is only a short walk from here. I'll be fine."

"If you're friends with my part-timer, I can't expect you to not secretly be a troublemaker like him too," Lala frowns as she skims the pages of the phone book for a taxi company. 

It's meant to be playful, but Makoto actually sounds a bit embarrassed as she chuckles: "I can't deny that completely. I suppose I really did change once I started hanging out with him, huh…" 

Oh, Lala would definitely have a word with Akira about that as soon as he shows up to his next shift.

"Now, stay just a minute longer and tell me all about that, Makoto-chan-" Lala starts, but the girl has already left the bar by the time she turns around.

Lala huffs. Maybe she underestimated her. After all, there must be a reason for her to be friends with her part-timer, of all people.

* * *

"If you're looking for an experience, you could help out a bit?"

Makoto looks up from her glass, curious. "I thought Crossroads wasn't looking?" she repeats Lala's own words from a week ago back at her.

Crossroads is indeed not looking, but Lala still couldn't get the idea out of her head. Not after Makoto came back a third time. And then a fourth. Followed by a fifth. Still not seen in anything other than a white blouse, but at least with a way more relaxed smile on her face and a position just the slightest bit more slouched.

Lala knows she came to like it here.

"Oh, don't worry, I won't make you do the cleaning. I just want you to keep my customers company and get to know this place more, yes?" It would provide her with the opportunity to, how did she put it, broaden her horizons while also taking a bit of work off Lala's shoulders. A win for both sides. Ever since Akira started declining shifts, her back pain came back full force.

She looks like she is about to refuse out of habit, but then stops herself and actually considers the idea. "I can't imagine why people would want my company, but I suppose I will trust you on this. It can't hurt to try out."

Compared to what she looked like when she first visited Crossroads, Lala can now clearly see how she's carrying herself with more ease as she navigates the booths to the bar and finds an unoccupied stool with ease. 

But Lala gives her a gentle nudge into the other direction. "Ah ah, you'll be behind the counter. I'll even teach you how to make that drink you like so much, yes? And you can keep the result for free."

She hums and joins Lala at the bar. "How can I say no to that?"

After familiarising her with the basics, she introduces Maria to her. An elegant brunette woman who comes in most nights wearing her finest evening gowns and who might look shallow at first sight, but is actually very observant and can certainly hold an insightful conversation.

"My, is she a relative? Are you helping Mama Lala out tonight? Such a young thing," Maria chuckles and looks Makoto up and down. The girl seems to squirm under her watchful eyes, her mouth opening up, but nothing except a stutter coming out.

"Makoto-chan is a friend of Akira," Lala says before Makoto can answer. "Go easy on her, will you?"

Maria seems delighted at that. "Ah, he's such a charming young man. And he always listens so attentively. You seem to be similar to him, hm?"

"In what way?" Makoto then finds her voice again.

"Well, you both have this rebellious aura. I don't know how to put it. Maybe it's because your clothes are so prim and proper, but your eyes hold that look of defiance?"

Makoto pales. "You can… deduce that just from looking at me?"

"Oh no, just a wild guess," Maria laughs. "I meet many people in my line of work, you learn to sort of read into them. So you're the kind of girl who wants to rebel and let loose? Wear some ripped jeans or something, get a motorcycle license, the usual?"

"I… do admit I am in the process of getting my license."

Maria sighs fondly. "Ah, if only I were still that young…" Lala knows that now is the best time to take her leave to actually tend to the bar lest she wants to be caught in her rambling. Makoto surely won't be bored anytime soon once Maria gets into her usual stories of her job, her daily life, attractive men and attractive women.

She pats her on the shoulder before leaving. "Be good and entertain her, honey?"

Makoto nods, a bit unsure. It's enough to assure Lala that she will be okay on her own.

Time passes as quickly as usually after that. Glasses need to be refilled, tables need to be wiped down, someone spilled their drink and Lala begrudgingly has to get the mop. When she checks on Makoto, she's pleasantly surprised to find her having moved to another customer. She recognises him immediately to be Nagai. Lala loathes getting stuck in a conversation with the banker. All he ever talks about is politics and Lala is sure that most people don't want to hear her raw and honest opinions on them. But maybe Makoto could learn a bit from him.

She tries to overhear their conversation just to make sure the girl is still enjoying herself. What she doesn't expect is to hear them actually locked into a debate about economics, of all topics. Nagai sounds distressed, yet positively challenged as he tries to counter points Makoto makes. Very good points. Of course they are, she pursues a law degree after all.

Lala smirks to herself. Yeah, she definitely sees why Akira and her are close now.

When the clock strikes ten, she pulls Makoto away from the bar. "You should be getting home soon, Makoto-chan, it's late already," she frowns.

Makoto chuckles. "I now see why everyone here calls you Mama Lala. Don't worry, I'll pack up soon."

"Be quick about it, since I know you'll refuse my cab services today as well."

Nagai then excuses himself for the night too; as always punctually after emptying the third drink. He leaves a generous tip and whispers to Lala to give it to "the bright young girl", then remarks about it being chilly and him having to probably scrape ice off his car in the morning before leaving.

Lala can't even be happy about the tip as a new worry invades her mind as his words linger.

"Are you planning on only wearing that flimsy blazer home tonight?" she says with a frown as she approaches Makoto putting on the thin fabric.

"It has kept me warm until now and it's only a short walk anyways," she brushes it off.

Lala shakes her head, though. "Stay here. I'll get you something warm. Don't you dare leave, or I’ll put sriracha sauce into your drink the next time you're here.”

It's not really for occasions like these that she always has an assortment of clothing in the backrooms, but if anything, she's thankful for the new use of them now. Lala digs through the pile of clothes in the closet, noticing that her part-timer should really learn how to use coat hangers, before finding something that's just perfect for what she has planned. Before leaving, she also grabs a bit of cash.

When she returns to the front with the studded leather jacket in hand, Makoto's eyes widen. "Oh…" she says. "I really don't need a jacket…"

"I insist. And take this, you've earned it." She shoves the yen notes into her shyly outstretched hand first. Makoto is too surprised to refuse and just looks at the money in her hand.

"That's… a lot," she remarks as she's counting with her eyes. "But I didn't do anything remarkable tonight?”

"You did the same the kid does whenever he works here, so you deserve the same pay. Entertaining my customers is also work, yes? Besides, I saw you cleaning glasses when you thought I wasn't looking."

She bashfully looks to the side at that and reluctantly pockets the money. "Thank you. I'll put it to good use."

Lala smiles, pleased with herself. "Now put on the jacket. Maria guessing you right today just confirmed what I knew for a while. Take your once in a lifetime opportunity to wear a leather jacket yours truly picked out!" She shoves the piece of clothing at her next.

Makoto is more prepared to take it now. She turns it in her hands, carefully, as if she has never touched anything like this before. Lala sees her eyes getting transfixed on the wings pattern on the back. "It's nice," she says, much more quiet.

"Ah, I suppose the wings may make a nice metaphor." Lala is not usually one for sentimentality, but it's too fitting to not remark on it.

Makoto nods and doesn't comment much more on it, but her eyes gleam with anticipation. She slips on the jacket. It doesn't escape Lala that her hands are shaking.

It looks right at home on her. Lala hums to herself as she looks her up and down. "I knew this was a good choice."

The girl pokes at the sleeves, a bit unsure, before rolling them up, giving the look a much more rebellious feeling. She goes to admire herself in one of the few mirrors Lala has put up around Crossroads.

Lala can see the exact moment Makoto realises how just a single piece of clothing can make a difference in perception. Her shoulders relax and she raises her chin up in a proud smile as she turns to admire the wings on the back. "How did you know this would look good on me?"

"Call it female intuition, honey."

Makoto keeps quiet. After a moment, her mouth curves into a smile, soft and thankful. "I can't wait to see my sister’s shocked face when she sees me in that."

"Then feel free to keep it, my dear." At her bewildered expression, Lala quickly adds: "And don't you think about returning it! You're free to come here anytime without a reason."

"You're so kind, Lala-chan," Makoto smiles, and the new honorific is not lost on Lala. So the ice finally melted, huh?

"Don't call me that just yet, I can be mean when I want to,” she responds with a huff.

Makoto ignores it in favour of a question: "Why do you even have this here? It… doesn't seem to be your size. My apologies."

"Oh, no need to dance around my curves. I know it doesn't fit. But I always keep an assortment of various clothes around for employees who want to crossdress."

Confusion flashes across her face. "But I thought you and Akira were the only-"

"Like I said, it's for employees who want to crossdress. Now go before you miss your train and you can't escape me calling a cab!”

She got the hint. It's the most Lala can do for their friendship without overstepping.

A quiet chuckle escapes Makoto. "I'll be sure to take care of the jacket. And… thank you. Akira works the odd weekends, right? Maybe I'll pay him a visit sometime."

And like so often, she disappears into the night before Lala can get another word out.

Lala shakes her head. That girl.

Maybe those ripped black jeans just catching dust back there would suit her too.


	2. Ann (First love + Sunshine)

"You told Makoto I'm crossdressing?"

Lala's one and only part-timer—well, probably not the only one for much longer if the girl in question comes over a few times more—is currently wiping down a table at an excruciatingly slow pace, pretending to be working, lips decorated with the lipstick Lala secretly replaced with a sigh after he left the last one open to dry out. 

She notices him being more and more comfortable with make-up these days. The way his eyes glow whenever she acknowledges that he has gotten better at drawing the heart shape of his lips reminds her of herself when she was younger. Eager for recognition. Thankful for understanding.

Figures that he would not tell a soul outside of Crossroads about his newfound passion, no matter how close of a friend they are.

"I didn't tell the girl, I just nudged her into the right direction. You could try to be a bit more considerate of the feelings of your friends, you know that?"

"Hey, in my defence, you don't just go up to your female friends and say 'Hi, I wear lipstick and dresses and I think you won't understand that so I feel alienated', do you?" Akira scoffs as he straightens his back, the rag forgotten on the table. 

Lala eyes him. "No lazing around. The sooner you're done cleaning, the quicker you can go home. And remember that you still need time to get that stuff off your face."

With a sigh, the little slacker actually gets to work. "Yes, Mama."

Lala nods approvingly, then busies herself with sorting today's receipts, but she's soon interrupted by Akira calling out to her.

"By the way, I'm kinda just procrastinating because a friend wanted to pick me up after work today."

"A friend?" Lala asks, interested. "Makoto-chan?"

"Ah, no, but I think you'll like her too. She can be a bit bubbly, though."

Lala smiles. Bubbly is good, especially for someone like Akira. As talkative as he is with her, sometimes she still notices him hitting some sort of inner word count when talking with specific customers after which he just shuts up and keeps completely quiet, only grunting out small responses or nodding to indicate he's listening.

Over the last few days, she's gotten the suspicion that he may be like that with his friends too, especially with Makoto, who seemed to have trouble getting him to open up.

She's glad they apparently sorted it out. Life is too short to fear people's reactions to your lipstick and dresses.

It's not long before the door opens and a quirky blonde dressed in colourful, yet athletic-looking clothing hops into Crossroads.

"Is Akira here? Oh, Akira! Over here!" she shouts through the entire bar and waves even though there's no one else besides Lala and him.

Bubbly indeed. She's like a ray of sunshine compared to Crossroads' muted atmosphere. Lala likes to see it. The night was long and she's exhausted—this is a much needed breath of fresh air.

Her fluffy pigtails bounce with each step she further takes in. Now that she's closer, Lala notices her being foreign. Maybe American? She's not sure. Her Japanese seemed flawless, though. Probably mixed heritage.

"Now who do we have here?" Lala chuckles.

She hops on a barstool and flashes her a bright smile. "You must be Lala-chan! Akira told me about you!"

"Only the best, I hope?" Lala throws a cautious, yet playful look to her part-timer, who just shrugs and grins. He knows this game. 

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Lala's lips quirk up. Brat.

Akira puts down the rag and comes over to the bar. "Hey bestie," he sing-songs and dries his hands on his apron before engulfing the new girl in a big hug. Lala rolls her eyes in amusement. How many girl best friends does this boy have?

"Akira," she whines as she practically drapes herself over him. "How come you get to have such a cool part-time job while I have to run my ass off in a restaurant?"

"Oh, don't mistake this, I work him to the bone," Lala says with feigned seriousness. "In fact, I'll only let him go for the day because he's already so exhausted from wiping down the same table for five whole minutes."

"There was a stain!" Akira protests while disentangling himself from the girl, but it falls on deaf ears.

"You know, I have enough permanent stains in the kitchen over there that could use such a good scrubbing. What do you say we cancel your little playdate and you clean the bar while I bring out some snacks for your girl friend over here?" 

Lala is only kidding, of course, but the girl seems immediately invested. Her eyes shine as she leans over the counter. "You mean I get to eat food and watch Akira work his ass off at the same time?"

"Ann," he whines. "Don't gang up on me..."

"Go wash your face or I'll make you clean off more than just your make-up. I'll even be generous for tonight and give you two some sweets to last the ride home," Lala says and ushers Akira to the backrooms. He stumbles along and laughs.

"They won't last five minutes when Ann's involved!"

"Not true!" the girl defends herself, but the giggle in her voice betrays her.

Lala turns to her—Ann, she knows now—since Akira is likely busy for the next few minutes. “So you got a sweet tooth, Ann-chan?"

"Definitely! But who can blame a girl when there's just so many sweets to try in the world?" Her eyes glitter. She’s really a ray of sunshine.

She chuckles. "So you work in gastronomy? You must feel right at home here."

"Oh, no, that's just to pay the bills! I actually model."

Lala raises her eyebrows. Of course she models, she's conventionally attractive after all. Now she's truly curious how Akira keeps meeting people like this. Do they just flock to him in school? Then again, it wouldn't really surprise her. Queer kids tend to gravitate to one another.

How does Lala know the girl in front of her is queer? Just a hunch.

"So modelling doesn't pay the bills, hm?"

She flusters a bit at that. "Yeah, about that..."

"Oh honey, I'm just teasing you. Do what makes you happy if you don't have to worry about money yet, I always say." Lala goes and fetches a small glass. "Now, since that boy is making you wait, I might as well make you try the sweetest thing I have in stock." With a wink, she turns back to Ann. "After all, it's good for business to get a critic's approval in."

Ann leans forwards in her seat. "Ohhh, what are you making?" she asks with a smile as she watches Lala pour together various syrups.

Lala smirks. "Nothing alcoholic. Don't mind that, just making sure it's known around the young ones."

"I don't like alcohol anyways. It just burns and there's no flavour," Ann groans in response.

Interesting. Is she even aware that she ran her mouth just now?

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear about you already knowing all about that," Lala scoffs and puts the finished drink in front of her, adding a straw and a little cocktail umbrella. 

She giggles and takes the biggest gulp imaginable. "This thing is sooo good," she sighs dreamily and raises the straw to her lips once more.

"Don't drink it all at once, Aki-chan likes to take her time in the bathroom for make-up," Lala says.

Ann promptly chokes on her drink. Lala thinks she's about to giggle again, but instead, she coos. "Aki-chan, that's the cutest thing ever! Why did he never tell me? Oh, I have to press you for all the details next time!"

A next time. So her bar's age range is really about to shift lower just because of a determined high-schooler with friends, huh? Lala ignores it for now and focuses on another part of that sentence.

"Mama Lala here can keep a secret," she says, amused, "so maybe you should just ask Akira instead. It took him long enough to come clean."

Ann sighs. "Yeah, that's probably better... But I can still get a few embarrassing stories about him out of you, right?" Her eyes gleam.

"If you make it worth my while," Lala says with a teasing undertone. "How about you? Any exciting boy stories you have to share? Who's your puppy crush?"

Bingo. She blushes and stammers. "N-No, ahaha, I don't really, I mean, there's really no boy..."

"Because Ann is in love with a girl," comes a familiar chipper voice from the backrooms. The next moment, Akira appears, wearing a hoodie and his face not showing any trace of make-up. Lala notices that he only took a fraction of his usual time to remove it, probably being quick about it on purpose this time.

"Akira...!" Ann shouts. "How could you!" There's a breathlessness in her voice that suggests that this topic is definitely a weak point.

"Payback. Heard you trying to get the scoops on me."

"That's something else!"

"I think Lala would rather hear all about your giant, gay crush, since she already knows all about my lipstick troubles."

Both pairs of eyes turn to Lala. Lala, who discreetly got away to simply observe their little banter in amusement, sorting through the last of her receipts. She smiles and shrugs. "He has a point, Ann-chan. I'm always up for good gossip. Why don't you bring her here sometime?"

Ann has probably not yet recovered from the first time she got called out, otherwise, she wouldn't start blushing and stammering as if on commando.

"But I would have- I mean, I don't know if Shiho would like that- how would I even tell her it's a date?" With a groan, she hides her face in her hands. "It's so complicated! I've never actually..."

"Oh, she's your first love, isn't she, darling? Akira, cut the poor thing some slack," Lala chides him.

Akira sighs. "Yeah, but she's not really getting anywhere like this."

Lala turns back to Ann. Sure enough, she's gnawing on her straw, looking anywhere but the two other people in the room.

"You know, honey, if you ever need advice for a lesbian crush, there's no one better suited than a queer bar Mama," she laughs. "If you visit at a reasonable hour, you can tell me all about that Shiho girl."

At the mention of her name, Ann grows a lot more flustered. "Uh, sure!" she stammers out. "Thank you!"

Akira grins and sinks down on the stool beside her. "Aw, looks like you're finally being honest about her."

To Lala’s surprise, Ann’s eyes suddenly light up with mischief, all traces of embarrassment gone. "At least I make sure to tell my crushes about my hobbies, Aki-chan."

How can she recover so quickly? Lala almost snorts in amusement.

Akira actually winces and blushes. "Oh. Uh, please don't tell Goro about that."

Goro, huh? Lala files that name away for later. There's too much going on at once. It's not every day you have two high-schoolers play-arguing over who gets the right to gossip.

"Hm, maybe I won't," Ann clicks her tongue. Lala can see her radiating pure smugness, her eyes gleaming under Crossroads' red lights. "But I'm having such a hard time deciding, Aki-chan," she hums.

"Shibuya buffet. I'll pay. Please?" Akira sighs, resigned.

"Deal!" Ann is ecstatic and clasps her hands together. It must be quite the expensive feast for her to readily agree like this.

Lala chuckles. This girl knows how to get what she wants. Akira may be all tongue-in-cheek, but if there's one thing the kid seems to be bad at, it's saying no, especially under pressure. A match made in heaven.

"Looks like you gotta come in more to earn that money back, honey," Lala says, amused to no end. She's not complaining about being able to use this situation to her advantage too. Female solidarity, right? "Speaking of which, come here a second for your payment, before I forget."

With light steps, Akira comes around the bar to take it gratefully, pocketing it in his bag. Lala hopes he doesn't notice the extra she put on top of it for that buffet until he's home.

As he's zipping his bag shut with a "thanks, Mama", she notices something else, though.

"Oh, you little rascal, are you sneaking your lipstick out? I can see it poking out of the side pocket, you know."

Akira flinches and betrays himself by immediately trying to hide the bag with a tactical swing over his shoulder.

It's Ann who comes to his rescue. "We're having a sleepover, trying out make-up, talking about crushes and everything. I told him he can have my stuff, but he insisted on getting his own."

"It's a nice colour," Akira mumbles.

Lala shakes her head with a fond smile. So this was really happening, huh? Back when she started out with drag, her reception had not been so kind. The kid can truly count himself lucky for his friends.

"Take it, but don't spill it or let it dry out, you got that?"

Akira breaks into a wide grin. "You're the best, Mama."

Ann quickly finishes her drink after that and the two prepare to leave, their pockets stuffed with bonbons and chocolate bars that Lala always keeps hidden below the counter. Before they're out the door, though, Lala calls out to Ann one last time.

"Don't hesitate to come in when you need advice with that Shiho girl, honey!"

Ann laughs and promises she will.

When they are gone, Lala smiles softly to herself. First love, huh? She can tell her fair share of stories about that. What a beautiful thing to experience in one's youth. Hopefully, the girl's crush is reciprocated, but Akira's leisure in talking about it betrayed that the chance was big.

* * *

“But I just think I don't really have a chance with her, you know?"

Lala could pull her hair in frustration if she wasn't so busy tending to her potted plants right now.

It's been like this for the last hour or so. The girl would get an absolutely lovestruck expression on her face while telling stories of her and her best friend, then remember "oh, there's actually feelings involved here" and immediately start moping about everything relating to her.

"Dear, I understand it's hard taking the first step, but..."

"I know she likes girls too, but what if that excludes me? Oh no, what if I’m not her type? What if she finds someone better?”

With a sigh, Ann stirs her cocktail with the straw, blue eyes lost in the swirl of similar colours in her glass. She looks miserable at the mere idea of not getting with this girl.

Lala stops refilling her watering can and turns back to her, careful to not let any water spill. "Why would you think that, honey? Keep your head up, or should I water you too? You look as wilted as my flowers." True to the words, both Ann and the potted plants on the counter beside her hang their heads.

As Lala goes to water the latter, she sighs and ruffles Ann's hair on a whim. It seems to work as she actually giggles softly. Seems Lala was right about her being a touchy one.

"Yeah, you're right. It's just, Shiho is so strong and cool, beautiful even, how would I ever have a chance with her?"

Lala stops in her motions to stare at her. "Honey, you're a model for a reason," she huffs, "have you seen yourself? I don't ever want to hear such self-deprecation from you again, beautiful. Not in front of this old hag."

Ann giggles again. "But you're beautiful too! Especially in that kimono. I can't imagine putting all those layers on without going crazy."

"My dear, flattery will get you nowhere." But it feels nice to hear, anyway. Lala wouldn't call herself self-conscious, but putting on a kimono every day is hard work and acknowledgement is sparse to come by. "Enough about me, though."

Ann hums. "I guess what I'm really trying to say is that," she hesitates for a moment, then fiddles with the end of one of her pigtails, "we've known each other for so long, so she knows all about how soft and weak I can be. Shiho always was so strong for me, even with all she went through..."

"You're best friends, right? It's just a give and take. I'm sure you were there for her too when she needed it." With deft fingers, Lala breaks off a wilted flower head and pushes the leaves aside to look for more. "It's okay to show weakness because you're almost always guaranteed to come back in full bloom after. And I'm sure you're strong too. For yourself and for her."

"I tried to be strong for her too—well, I'm still trying, but... who knows if it's enough?" With a sigh, Ann finally takes a sip of her drink instead of just stirring it.

"Wouldn't she tell you if it isn't?" Lala smiles at her, then goes to put the watering can away, letting the question hang in the air for a moment. From everything she has heard about Shiho tonight—which is a lot, given Ann appeared on the doorstep as soon as Crossroads opened and blabbered for hours about the qualities of this girl before getting to this point—their relationship is open and has no room for doubts or lies. A rarity in today's world. Coincidentally also the basis for a good relationship, if Ann could just get her spirits up and take it to the next level.

Lala wonders if talking to Makoto so often made her softer somehow. Sure, she's quick to develop motherly feelings for kids like her and Akira and help them out with whatever, but never this quickly. She supposes it's because the quirky blonde walked in with the confidence and the smile like she's coming home and greeted Lala affectionately like she knew her for months already. 

When she returns to Ann, hands free and ready to talk without any distractions, Ann has already finished her drink and longingly stares into the glass. Lala sighs and snatches the glass away from the counter. "Refills are free tonight if you promise to bring the girl with you next time. It's a queer bar—she will get the hint, and worst case you just say it's the safest place around for girls."

Lala thinks she hears a strangled squeak from behind her as she's mixing the same drink again, adding a generous amount of curaçao syrup so it's even bluer than the last one—Ann has exclaimed before that she liked the colour especially.

She puts the drink in front of her and smirks at Ann, who is frozen with her shoulders raised high. "What if she notices?” she stammers out.

Not a no, then. "That's the goal. Then, you can really amp it up. But with everything you told me about you two, you could just outright tell her. Start off with a few compliments and what she means to you, you know? Worst case you brush it off as platonic."

Ann sinks deeper into her stool with each word.

"That won't work," she says quietly after a pause. "I actually decided to tell her a few months ago, but she just hugged me and thanked me for being a good friend. I even told her I love her!" She pouts in frustration.

Oh dear. Maybe Lala's efforts really were for naught. This sounds like an actual rejection, too—let's just be friends, nothing happened, always the same old story. Or...

"Of course she won't take it for real if you're always saying that to her! Tell me, girl, what's her love language?"

"Her... love language?" Ann asks, dumbfounded. "Uh, Japanese?"

Lala sighs. "Darling, I meant how she usually shows affection. Everyone has a different method."

Ann taps her chin with her fingers, looking away as she thinks. "I guess we really tell each other very often how much we like each other," she says after a while. "But there's also a few times when she just... how do I say? Whenever she seems really happy with me, she touches my shoulder or hand briefly. Or she just holds my face and tells me how dumb I am with the cutest smile on her face," she laughs.

Oh, now that definitely sounds different. There's something Lala knows she can work with.

"Then that's her love language, Ann-chan! Now we just take what you want to tell her and translate it so she understands."

"Is there... a translator for this?" She gasps. "Is there just a whole dictionary that I can use to learn how to woo Shiho?"

Lala almost snorts with laughter. "You just proved your friend's point, you know that?" she says in between laughter. "Either way, no, you're just gonna translate your words into casual touches. No manual for that, hun."

"Oh," she says. The next moment, she breaks into giggling too. "Huh, I guess that's the sugar spike speaking. So, how would I even do that? Just, like, take her hand? But we hold hands all the time..."

"Nothing like that, then. You have to let the touch linger to show her your intentions. For example, while you two are dancing, just put your hand on her back, look deep into her eyes and touch her cheek softly... ah, this got me all the men back then," Lala sighs dreamily, thinking of different times. Slow dancing under neon lights. Flirty jokes and banter and promises over drinks. A bar where it was safe to be a woman like her and kiss men.

There's already an idea taking root in her mind.

"Da... Dancing?" Ann gasps. "Ignoring all that suuuper obvious stuff, how would I even get that close to her?"

Lala smirks. "I'm glad you asked. Let me tell you of my grandiose plan, honey."

* * *

Never before has Lala seen someone so obviously trying not to make something a date. Ann fusses about the bar and her company with the shrillest, most nervous voice the walls of Crossroads have ever heard. Other customers are already staring, clearly not keen on missing even a second of the unprompted entertainment. 

Shiho is staring too. A very amused smile on her face. From the moment the girl set foot into Lala's little corner of the world, she has already suspected that the object of Ann's affection knows all about the intention behind this outing, but chose not to say anything and pretend to be oblivious to silently amuse herself.

Lala can respect this level of dedication.

Ann can't sit still in one place, constantly walking back and forth between the bar and the booth where Shiho sits, each time a new excuse on her lips. When she randomly brings empty dishes to Lala for the third time that night, she snaps.

"Honey, as much as I appreciate the help, go have fun with your girl."

There's a silent plea for help in Ann's eyes, her lips quivering with the accompanying words that she swallows down before they can escape. "Ahaha, but it's so busy tonight," she says instead, every word thick with panic. "I wouldn't want you to, uh, run around too much!"

"As you can see, I'm quite comfortable just sitting here," Lala sighs. "Go to your booth and don't come back. I'll even put on some music," she adds with a wink.

Ann almost combusts on the spot. So she at least remembers the plan.

She takes the walk of shame back in stride, but Lala can see her legs starting to shake as soon as she sinks down besides Shiho. With a sigh, she turns back to Ichiko.

"Am I going to have to cover your bar as the hottest new location for college students?" she teases Lala.

Lala shushes the journalist. "Keep quiet, I wanna listen in on them. The other one looks like she's about to talk business."

Ichiko grins smugly. "Invested like a true Mama. Don't worry, I wanna hear too."

True to her word, she keeps quiet while pretending to read the newspaper with Lala for cover. The chatter of other customers fills the air, but it's just quiet enough that Lala can make out a gentle voice speaking up.

It's too quiet to hear exact sentences, but Shiho is saying something about coming clean and being honest with her. Ichiko and Lala look at each other, eyes wide. "This is about to get reaaal juicy," Ichiko whispers.

A loud voice breaks the gentle atmosphere.

"I'm not nervous because it's a gay bar! I know we're comfy with that, Shiho, ahaha...”

Lala snorts. "And here I thought she was the perceptive one of the two."

"Dumb and dumber," Ichiko whispers affectionately. "Oh, this is like a lesbian sitcom. I should stay longer more often."

With a sigh, Lala stands up, taking a moment to stretch her tired bones. "Well, time to help them out a bit," she murmurs and walks to the old jukebox in the corner.

As she's shuffling through the CDs, looking for a very specific one, Maria calls out to her. "Finally something other than jazz in here! Do you take requests, Lala-chan?"

"Maybe later," Lala answers as she's inserting the disc.

Soon enough, a few of her patrons start exclaiming their joy as familiar pop music rings through the bar.

"You're really putting on Madonna, huh," Maria giggles.

"Perfect for dancing, right?" Lala’s words are loud enough for the whole bar to hear. Even out of the corner of her eye, she can see Ann sitting up stiff as a statue. Shiho is clasping her hands together and saying something to Ann with a smile, probably happy that her favourite music is playing in this bar unprompted and not making any connection.

The rest is in her hands. Lala already intervened more than she should have.

She returns to her seat with Ichiko and lights a cigarette. "Now we wait."

And indeed, they wait. One song plays through. Then the next. By the third, Lala has solved not only her crossword puzzle of the week, but also the problem of how to stop the two girls from dancing around each other—hah, if only they would actually do that for real, and not just metaphorically.

She gives Ichiko a smug look. "So about that favour you still owe me, Ichiko-chan..."

The journalist looks up at her in horror. "Oh no no no, what are you planning, you witch?"

"Just make yourself useful," Lala fires back and goes back to the jukebox. She starts fiddling with the buttons, which is really just an excuse to be at this side of the counter.

"Mama Lala," Maria sighs, swirling her finger around the rim of her glass, "how come no one's dancing? You should invite more charismatic people in here so someone finally sweeps me off my feet."

Bingo. She couldn't have given her a better opening.

"Actually, Ichiko-chan is a wonderful lead, if you want to open the dancefloor," Lala says.

Maria pulls her nose up. "In that getup? As cute as she can get, I'm not to be courted by women in jeans," she huffs and twirls a loose strand of her curled hair around her finger. She's obviously not convinced yet, but Lala is nothing but a master at her craft.

"That's her job outfit, dear! A journalist needs to stay undercover. Ichiko cleans up nicely in a suit when she's off the clock," Lala pretends to swoon. "You should see her lead a dance. Strong hands around your waist, a firm step..."

"Alright, alright," Maria laughs, "the suit convinced me already. I can pretend she's wearing that for a night."

The clicking of her heels is audible everywhere in the small bar as she's strutting over to Ichiko, not even giving her a choice as she practically drags her on the floor between the bar and the booths.

Lala feels Ichiko's murderous glare burn into her and lights herself a cigarette just to celebrate her victory.

She might have lied about the suit, but not about the dancing. She remembers going out to dance parties with Ichiko when they were both younger. Ichiko learned how to lead not only so she could impress any women interesting enough to fall on her radar, but also so she could always be a dance partner to Lala. She appreciates the sentiment to this day, even if she actually wouldn't have minded leading, contrary to what Ichiko thought.

The way Ichiko leads their foxtrot reminds her of better times. She's a bit unsure in her step, probably out of practice, but Maria doesn't seem to mind as she practically melts in her arms. The two look nice together. Lala wonders if she might have aimed her cupid's bow at the wrong couple tonight.

Her worry is short-lived as she sees Shiho pulling up a shaky Ann, though. Both girls are giggling as they make their way to the floor, holding hands all the while. Not many patrons seem to be looking, but Ichiko and Maria still give them a bit of cover as the two girls try to adjust their positions.

Ann seems to have her legs tied together with the way she's swaying back and forth, but on God, does she try hard. And if anything, Shiho seems delighted by the weird footwork and impromptu spinning she demonstrates.

At one point, Ann meets Lala’s eyes over Shiho's shoulder, so Lala gives her a thumbs up. A wobbly smile is all she gets in return before the blonde turns so that she doesn't have to look at the bar anymore.

Utterly cute. Lala wishes she were still young and in the midst of her first love, which has arguably not been as pretty as the movies make it out to be, but looking at the two lovebirds on the dancefloor, one might as well dream.

She leaves them to their devices and takes a long drag of her cigarette—now she really meddled enough.

And like that, the night seems to move on just a little bit faster. At one point, Maria and Ichiko plop down back at the bar, lost in their own little world and only acknowledging Lala when Ichiko orders a drink for her new dancing partner.

Lala is still bewildered at this sudden change. Maybe just slightly jealous too. They have been sitting beside each other at least once a week for years, content to keep their talking to surface level, and all it really took to get them closer was to promise Maria that Ichiko can pull a suit off?

Damned bisexuals.

When Lala notices that slower and more romantic songs have been playing for a while now, she risks a glance to the dancefloor—and almost coos at what she sees there.

The two girls are caught in an embrace, swaying back and forth to the music, their faces incredibly close to one another. And it appears Ann is really bringing out the guns now that she's gotten comfortable: One of her hands rests on Shiho’s waist, her thumb slowly stroking in small circles, while the other is linked with Shiho’s hand to simulate a dance hold.

Shiho laughs at something Ann whispered to her and leans in softly, giving her a peck on the cheek. Ann has never looked more in love as they lean their foreheads together.

They really do look lovely with each other. Everyone could probably see the trust these two girls have between them from a mile away.

Lala should probably do the dishes about now. Or turn off the jukebox lest she wants the album to start all over again. But for now, she's content to just discreetly watch her bar abuzz with life and the promise of young love that she helped blossom tonight.

Whilst she pours herself a drink, she pats herself on her shoulder in her imagination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *spills my jar of glitter all over my laptop* oops, all gay!  
> yes Shiho absolutely listens to Madonna I take no criticism


	3. Futaba (Desperation + Lace)

Narrowed eyes stare Lala into the ground from behind comically large glasses, never once leaving her form as she walks the counter up and down, tending to customers and avoiding bumping into her part-timer who's doing the cleaning for tonight.

She tries to ignore it. She really does. After all, shouldn't she be used to it by now?

After another moment, she sighs quietly to herself. No, she'll never get used to the looks. So Lala muster up a glare and stares back—the special one, the one that made Ichiko call her the "wicked witch of the East" once.

The girl immediately recoils and hides her face in her hands as if Lala turned green for real. Too easy.

She smirks and comes around the counter, making a beeline for the booth that the girl is perched upon like a baby gargoyle. "Can I get you anything, honey? You seem to stare at the bar an awful lot."

"A-Ah," she stammers, frozen as if Lala's eyes alone turned her into stone. "N-N-No? Uh..."

Lala laughs curtly. "Nothing with alcohol. I'm talking about juice and the like. We have stuff with soda too?" Maybe she's cruel to expose the girl to any more talking than necessary, but she would be lying if she says she doesn't enjoy flustering her just a little bit more than necessary after all the hostile staring tonight.

She hugs her legs tighter to her body. Her orange bangs almost completely cover her shivering form. Her mouth opens to answer, then she freezes again. Finally, she squeaks out: "Soda!"

Suppressing the urge to laugh out loud, Lala says: “There you go. Bitter lemon or raspberry? Anything to go with that?"

"Raspberry!" she immediately shoots back, still in an overly panicky voice.

"It's okay, dear," Lala says, barely concealing a grin, "just let me know if you want something. We also have food here, nothing big, though, just what can be done with a microwave." And before she can think better of protecting Crossroads' secrets, she adds with a wink: "There's also sweets, only for when Aki-chan brings friends."

As hard as she tries to look unimpressed, her eyes lighten up behind her frames. "Oh! Uh, no thanks." Lala practically sees the longing in her eyes. Maybe sharing this sensitive information wasn't for naught after all.

Smiling to herself, she returns to the bar, feeling the girl's eyes bore into her back.

"You really keep bringing in some special girls," Lala says as she's taking the drying cloth from a surprised Akira's hands. "Go and make her a Raspberry Fizz, darling. The poor girl sure looks like she needs it."

"She's not used to being around so many unknown people." Akira says and takes out a tall glass and various bottles, immediately starting to work like clockwork. "I told her she doesn't have to come, but she insisted on seeing the new blouse in action. Besides, I'm kinda desperate at this point to get her out and in the open."

At the mention of the new addition to Akira's closet, Lala looks him up and down once again. While he previously was only comfortable with lipstick and some fooling around with form-fitting clothes, he really went all out tonight. His curly wig reaches down to his hips, as onyx black as the lacy blouse he's wearing with confidence. It's definitely modest enough to wear it to a shift at Crossroads without Lala feeling the need to protectively fuss about him all night, but it's feminine and accentuating enough to change Akira's aura completely.

"She got it for you, huh?" Lala asks, smiling as she wipes off a glass and sets it to dry. "Your girls are a sweet bunch for being so supportive of you."

"Yeah- wait, how do you know? Oh wait, don't answer that, it's my choice in clothing, right?" Akira sighs.

Lala laughs. "You keep pulling out the most atrocious clothing from back there. Don't blame me for getting suspicious because you finally discovered lace for yourself."

"It's cute, isn't it?" Akira grins and moves his arms to shake the bell sleeves in fascination. "Makes me look like a girl."

"Darling, you don't have to look the part to be one."

Akira laughs. "Touché."

She watches him bring the drink to the girl, striking an overly dramatic pose immediately after. Hip out, chin high. Lala scoffs to herself. Little show off. He preens under the attention.

Slowly, the girl's legs drop down to the ground as she unclenches her hands, her posture less protective the more she talks to Akira. When she laughs at something Akira says and moves to take a big sip of her cocktail, Lala really notices in action what Akira said just now: this girl needs an anchor, something familiar to hold on to when there's too many new people around her.

"She should talk to Yasutora-chan," Lala jokes when Akira appears at the counter again. "He's intimidating enough to help her build some spine."

"Actually a good idea. Talking to him always raises my guts stat."

Lala rolls her eyes. Whatever lingo students use these days.

When the two leave later that night and she watches the girl practically drag Akira out of the bar, it occurs to her that she never even asked for her name.

* * *

The next time the two of them are there, Lala has to immediately send Akira on an errand run. Dumplings are out and if Ichiko comes in today hungry and has to leave in the same state, Crossroads won't hear the end of it.

"Nooo! My key item!" the girl cries and reaches out to drag Lala's part-timer back by the sleeve. "I'll come with you!"

"Sorry, trade secret where I get the dumplings!" Akira grins mischievously and pulls his arm out of her grip. Lala suspects he's leaving her here on purpose. Last time, they talked a great deal about her and how Akira constantly accompanies her everywhere due to her fear of unknown people. He said he doesn't mind, but he wishes she had more opportunities to learn how to be on her own. Lala made a joke about Crossroads becoming the new safe haven for queer kids and Akira's ideas spiralled off from there.

The girl—Lala still doesn't know her name—looks mortified at the prospect of Akira leaving. "You know I have your phone bugged? I know all about the secret dumpling locations!" she shouts, but Akira is already charging out the door, lightning-quick.

Lala can see the exact moment she realises she's on her own for now. Her shoulder raise defensively and her hands clench into tight fists. Behind her glasses, her eyes are wide, looking to the ground for answers on how to handle the situation she was just thrown in and most likely not finding any judging from how she starts to tremble slightly.

"Take a seat at the counter before you put down roots, dear." Lala gestures to an empty seat. The girl follows the motion of her hand with her eyes, warily, but after a moment of contemplation, she complies and perches herself on the stool, once again with her legs drawn tight to her body.

Lala knows the myth of how queer people can't sit up straight, but she never would have thought to see it in action like that.

"Raspberry Fizz again? I'll put it on Aki-chan's tab for leaving you like that," Lala chuckles. She receives a curt nod in response, the girl's lips a tight line. Her eyes shift between Lala and the only other person at Crossroads right now, Yasutora, an intense-looking man in a business suit. She grows smaller in her seat when she notices the expression on his face as he stares down at his tablet. Lala smirks. If she would only know what lies beneath his intimidating frown.

While she prepares her drink, Lala tries to strike up conversation again: "You know, I didn't catch your name last time. I don't think Aki-chan mentioned it the other night."

"It's... Futaba Sakura." Her voice is quieter this time, but already less nervous and rather shy instead. Maybe she thawed up a bit after the last time she was here?

"Futaba-chan," Lala tests the name with a smile, "what a lovely name. Call me Lala-chan, my dear."

She's still looking at her lap, nervously playing with her fingers. "I... already know your name. Crossroads is... kinda known in online spaces."

At that, Lala makes a face. "Online? I don't know anything about that. Then again, try finding a queer bar around here that's not got a reputation." She laughs. "Is that why you've come here?"

"N-No!" she quickly shoots out. "Wanted to see Akira in cute clothes. We kinda... never really talked about that stuff before, even though he should know I'm open to that."

"You got him that blouse, right? For someone who only comes in in hoodies, you seem to know how to pick your fashion." As soon as she finishes the drink and tops it off with a slice of lime, Lala puts it in front of her.

"Uh, thanks?" She seems flustered, but Lala is thankful she at least thawed up enough for conversation. "But it's really Akira. He looks good in stuff that would never suit me."

"How can you be so sure of that? I'm certain that blouse would look lovely on you, honey."

"It's not that..." Futaba sighs. Then she gets quiet. "Maybe it's kinda more the idea of dressing up in something I normally wouldn't ever wear. Akira does it so effortlessly."

Lala hums. Her eyes light up with mischief. "Say, have you ever wanted to do drag?"

It's evident on her face that she's shocked at the mere suggestion. Lala grins to herself. "Oh. Uh!" Futaba coughs. "Not really? It's just so... I don't know, too flashy. And waaay too feminine, like I said."

"Oh, I'm not talking about queens." Lala laughs. "How about becoming a drag king?"

Futaba blinks in confusion. "Huh? How would that even work?" She keeps quiet and thinks for a moment, taking a tentative sip of her cocktail. "I guess it makes sense that there's an opposite for girls... Dammit, why have I never heard of that?"

"You just haven't looked in the right corners, sweetie," Lala hums. She's not surprised—after all, drag kings are less known than queens. Maybe it's got something to do with people being more shocked over a man in a dress than the opposite. "Say, my dear, how about we surprise Aki-chan by giving you a full makeover? I've got enough clothing and makeup here to make you a true king. And knowing how much she likes to slack off, we've got enough time on our hands."

She splutters on her drink. "Is this- is this really a good idea? What if I look bad?"

"Honey, that's not a no. Come with me, we've got a king to crown!" Excitement courses through Lala and gives her the strength to stand up and drag the squeaking girl by her arm to the backrooms. She winks at the man at the counter in a silent message. He only nods. Lala is glad for her understanding patrons.

"Wait, do you just have some costume or something lying around here?"

"So much more than you could ever imagine, my dear."

* * *

An hour later and Lala is sure that not even ice cream under the hot sun could have melted as quickly as this girl's shyness did when faced with a large walk-in closet with various clothing, all for her tonight to dig through in childish excitement.

"This. Is. Awesome!" she exclaims as she throws yet another plaid shirt onto the ever-growing pile. Lala watches her with a mix of satisfaction and trepidation. On one hand, it warms her heart that she's gotten comfortable this quickly and that she's already so invested in looking for the right costume. On the other...

Futaba is the same brand of troublemaker as her part-timer. That much she's sure of already. They are both cheeky little devils that seem to love nothing more than to cause a mess, disregard coathangers entirely and exclaim out loud what could net them the most points for rebelliousness in all of Tokyo.

"Look, I could totally cosplay some hot warrior girl in this!" In Futaba's hands is the scantiest neon pink bikini top Lala has ever seen around these parts—where did that even come from?

"Come back to that when you're five years older," Lala huffs. "Besides, I'm sure even female warriors wear armour."

“Oh, no, boob armour is the hottest new trend in the industry!"

Lala is speechless for just a moment before catching her cool. “Right. We had those games in the nineties too, hun," she says with a frown. "I'm not surprised men still only want to play a woman when she's practically naked."

"Whoa," Futaba stops her search for the next big innovation to turn to Lala with wide eyes. "You were a gamer girl?"

Lala sighs. "No, but our clique liked to go to the arcade every so often. But enough about me. Make some room for this old 'gamer girl', I have just the idea what you might like."

She pouts, but inches to the side nevertheless. "I don't even know it myself! Kinda wanna wear every single one of these Hawaiian shirts at once, kinda just wanna burn them all and then burn the remains again."

"Spoken like a true lesbian," Lala mumbles as she looks through the pile with a bit more care.

"I'm not!"

With a snort, Lala turns to Futaba and gives her the look. The very special look.

She doesn't even last five seconds before she flushes red and says: "Maybe. I think I'm more pan... or aro. I don't know, I'm just kinda... gay?" She groans and theatrically holds her head. "Why is this all so confusing? Argh!"

"Oh, I get that, honey," Lala laughs. "You do you."

It's only after that that Lala realises how much tension there was truly left in Futaba's body that flowed out the minute she shared her struggle, even if the moment was short. She seems way more comfortable around the woman now, even making small jokes with her about some of the downright atrocious clothing they manage to find.

Lala feels warm. She could really get used to having girls like her at Crossroads. Helping these kids discover themselves makes her remember why she opened her little queer bar in the first place: to have a place that you could go to and find a family.

"Are you and Akira close?" Lala finds herself asking out of the blue.

Futaba nods with a hum. "Yeah, he's like a brother. We both grew up as an only child, so we're kinda catching up now. Going to the arcade, fighting over leftovers, beating up my bullies, all that stuff." She grins from ear to ear.

"That sounds lovely," Lala says, a warm smile on her face. "You two treasure what you have."

The two continue with their search and with Lala now making sure Futaba isn't as distracted by flashy pieces of clothing as she could be, they soon have a little pile of assorted clothing for their task.

"I really have no idea how we're gonna do this, but I'm all here for it," Futaba's eyes sparkle with glee. "Let's assemble my ultimate armour, trusted teammate!"

Lala can't wait to see the look on Akira's face when he realises that the girl he was fussing over for not warming up to strangers called Lala her "trusted teammate" just now.

"You really can't go wrong with those choices," Lala smirks. "They all just lead into the same direction."

"Where does our journey take us?" the girl asks in anticipation.

"To the land of the cishet men," Lala says theatrically, playing along, "where they forget to shave for days and only ever wear the same tattered Hawaiian shirt with beer stains. Oh honey, I have just the vision for you!"

Futaba bursts out laughing. "This is gonna be so good!"

Lala quickly compiles an outfit that would fit her size, then shoves the clothes at her. "Call out to me when you're done changing and we can start with the makeup. I'm gonna check on the bar in the meantime. Have fun, darling!"

"I can't wait for this," Futaba chuckles.

Back at the counter, Lala is glad to see that no one else came to the bar while she was busy helping Futaba play dress-up. Yasutora gives her a smug grin.

"How long has it been?" he asks amusedly.

"If you hadn't switched venues, it wouldn't have been that long. Little traitor." The amusement in Lala's voice betrays her true feelings, though. "How's business, dear?"

"Eh, slow. The usual."

"No, no, I mean the other business."

Yasutora grins. "Couldn't go better. Come over the next time and convince yourself, Mama Lala."

She scoffs. "I'm too old to travel that far. Bring the show back to me."

"Maybe someday."

Soon enough, a loud call of Lala's name echoes through Crossroads. She hurries back to the closet and almost squeals in delight at what she finds.

"My, you look fabulous! A bit on the rugged side, but that's exactly what we're going for, yes?"

Futaba beams with pride, her hands on her wrist, standing confidently with her legs apart. "I am ready for the next step!" she declares loudly.

Lala chuckles. "I know just the thing to go with that. I hope you don't mind sitting still and letting others draw on your face, because this could take a pretty while."

* * *

One wig and countless beauty products later, Lala finally releases a jittery Futaba so she can run to the nearest mirror.

She almost screams at her reflection, barely managing to tone it down to a choked-off cry. "What the hell?" she shouts. "I look- I look-"

"Like what, honey?"

"I look... like I go to the hardware store to get laid!" she says. Then, she breaks into a face-splitting grin. "Awesome!"

Lala laughs. "That's your origin story now."

She takes a look at her finished work, now that she doesn't have to concentrate on applying makeup anymore. The brunet short-haired wig really changed Futaba's whole vibe, even if it might have been a hassle to put on with all that orange hair that needed to fit under the tight wig cap. From her shoulders hangs a tattered, oversized red shirt with a washed out print of green and yellow hibiscus flowers on it, under it a simple black tanktop. The bleached jeans are obviously not her size, riding unflatteringly low on her hips, but it gives the whole outfit a much more sloppy feeling.

What really sells the look, though, is the fake beard Lala drew on her with a combination of eyeliner and eyeshadow. The overdone eye makeup shows even more that it's drag—a parody that Futaba wears with more pride than Lala has ever seen in a king. The girl from before is almost unrecognisable now.

"Mwehehe, Akira's ghost will leave his body when he sees me like this," Futaba laughs menacingly. "I pull off that whole drag thing way better than him!"

"Now now, no need for competition," Lala laughs. "Besides, I think by now it's less drag for him and more... a preference. I don't even want to call it cross-dressing," she says.

"Huh? Is there a difference?" Futaba asks.

Lala walks behind her and adjusts the wig for her, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "Honey, drag is so much more than just a costume. It's rebellion. It's a performance. A parody. A statement. Do you get it? Now tell me, who are you dragging through the mire with this look?"

"Uh." Futaba seems to struggle for a moment. "The... 'make me a sandwich, woman who is definitely inferior to me' men?"

"Exactly!" Lala nods vigorously. "That's what drag is all about. You take the gender stereotypes and go wild with your exaggeration of them. Some like to own it and make it theirs, some like to parody existing clichés. Drag is versatile and individual."

Warmth blooms in Lala's chest as she speaks, the words coming easy to her. Her own days of performing might be over, but remembering the liberating feeling that came with putting on the wig, with creating new looks... It helped her more than any textbook to find out how to show herself in creative ways.

Futaba looks stunned. "I never looked at it like that," she admits. "I... kinda always just admired the flashy stuff. You know, all those cool, colourful looks and performances..."

"Most of all, drag wants to be witty and entertain. You're seeing exactly what performers want you to see, don't worry." Lala goes to clean up the beauty products strewn about the ground. "So to get back on topic, I think while Aki-chan thrives in the attention that comes with it, she explores those things because she feels they suit her better." And after a short pause, she adds: "It would mean a lot if you keep supporting her, no matter where that leads her. To me and to Aki-chan."

"Of course I will!" Futaba sounds almost scandalised, but there's a playful smile on her lips. "Hey, just a quick question though."

"I'm all yours, honey," Lala hums.

"Why are you..." She pauses. There's sudden hesitation in her voice. After taking a deep breath, she continues, albeit a bit quieter: "Why are you so nice to me... and Akira? You barely know me."

Huh. Lala didn't expect that. Why exactly does she care so much about a chaotic group of adolescents who probably drive away customers and weasel their way into free drinks and food? She should have an answer on the tip of her tongue, but there's nothing. Instead, it's more like... a feeling. Difficult to put into words.

"Crossroads is my home," Lala starts after thinking about it just a moment longer, "and when you invite people into your home to have a drink with you, it's only fair to be helpful to them, yes?" Her lips quirk into a smile.

Futaba seems puzzled. "But you're like... extra-extra kind. It's weird."

Lala recognises that look. Wariness, even after all their little bonding just now. She can't even fault her. It's good to be weary when you're a young girl in a world full of adults.

"When I was your age, I didn't have anyone who helped me figure out all this gender stuff, or just someone who listened to me. So now that I'm an old hag, I try to be the responsible adult I wished I could have relied on back then. It's really just a personal thing." Lala chuckles.

"Responsible adults, huh," Futaba says. "I'm sure we can all sing a song about that..."

"Oh, Akira and Makoto told me all about it. Not even your counsellor was reliable, huh?"

Futaba just shrugs. "The others said he always had snacks and that that alone was apparently worth it."

Lala laughs. "My, all of you are just a bunch of hungry little gremlins. Let's go back to the counter before we miss Akira bringing in the groceries."

Once they are back under the dim red lights of Crossroads, Futaba's eyes immediately lock onto Yasutora in obvious fear. Lala almost laughs out loud. She's already so afraid of other people's reactions—how will she handle more people coming in?

"Futaba-chan, there's someone I wanna introduce to you," Lala says smugly and pulls her into the man's direction.

"W-Wait! What?" she stammers, but it's too late as she comes face to face with the intimidating man. He slowly looks up from his tablet with a frown, his eyes icy enough to freeze anyone on the spot. Futaba can only stare in fear.

"This is Yasutora-chan. He's one of my patrons."

Futaba anxiously shrinks under his gaze like a plant shrivelling up in the sun. When he narrows his eyes at her, Lala's sure she can hear her let out a small squeak.

"You've got balls, staring at me like that. Let's talk," he snarls.

"Eek! Okay!" Futaba squeaks out.

Lala grins to herself as Yasutora taps at his tablet a few times, then holds it up for Futaba to see. On display is a store site for wigs where there are three in focus. "Choose," he says curtly with an intensity that makes Futaba visibly shiver.

"Huh?" she exclaims, puzzled to no end.

"I said to choose for me," Yasutora growls.

Another strangled squeak escapes Futaba. Anxiously, her eyes dart back and forth between the options. "Uh, the pink one!" she quakes.

Yasutora's look only grows more intense at her words. He inches just the tiniest bit closer and Futaba almost jumps three metres backwards, the only thing keeping her from doing so the kitchen counter pressing insistently into her back. "I just- I think pink curls would really suit you! Better than blue straight hair! I guess!"

A moment of anxious staring passes between them that feels like a small eternity. Finally, Yasutora lets the tablet drop back on the table and leans back in his seat. "You've got a keen eye," he says. "Thanks."

"Yasutora-chan and I are always picking out stuff together for his performances, right, dear?" Lala explains.

At Futaba's bewildered expression, only looking funnier with the heavy makeup on her face, Yasutora nods too. "You might have heard of me. Bunny Tyler's shows are sold out for months to come."

"Bunny... Tyler?" Futaba pales. "Seriously?"

Lala nods, suppressing the urge to grin. "He's right, dear. You should really see Bunny-chan's most famous performance when you get the chance to. It's called 'Total Eclipse of the Carrot', a crowd favourite."

Futaba gasps. "Oh my God. Okay. Holy fuuuck!" She takes a deep breath, then another. "Okay. Okay! Total eclipse of the carrot. This is the best thing I've ever heard! I'm gonna make this go so viral, you'll have to thank me for your success for years to come-"

"So you wanna compete with me?" Yasutora narrows his eyes at her. "You've got nerve, kid."

"N-No! I just meant-"

"Bring it on. Your best impression, now. I'm waiting."

And just like that, Futaba is frozen in place once again, trembling like a leaf.

"Dear, no need to be shaking that much. Just do a quick impromptu of your character. Remember what I said about drag being a performance?" Lala pats her on the back encouragingly. 

Futaba looks up at her with quivering lips. "But..."

"No no, just try it. You'll see how fun it is." Lala suddenly gets an idea and takes an empty beer bottle from a crate below the counter. Her back bones creak in protest and she curses herself for being so much on her toes today.

"Here, I'll even supply you with a prop. Just say whatever comes to mind." She presses the bottle into Futaba's hands, the girl scrunching up her nose as the smell of the remaining liquid in the bottle hits her.

"Whatever comes to mind, huh..." she repeats, still a bit shaky and looking anywhere except Yasutora, but with a bit more confidence now that she has something to do with her hands.

Lala gives her a thumbs-up. She's excited to see if she will fill her new role with ease or run away under the sudden pressure.

"Ah-ahem!" Futaba clears her throat and stands up straight. Or at least, tries to. "Uh. Hello fellow humans. It is I, the straightest, manliest man you have ever seen. Shudder in the face of my privilege!"

She's a bit confused, but she's got the spirit. Lala feels like a proud mom coming to her kid's first elementary school play, here to clap the loudest for the ten seconds of fame her hatchling has.

Futaba adapts a more confident pose, yet at the same time slouching ever so slightly to stay in character. "My sheer presence is objectifying to every woman in a ten mile radius!" Then, her voice suddenly drops in a mockery of a deep voice: "Bow down to my testosterone-privileged vocal chords that will one day conquer the world!" Futaba waves the empty beer bottle around enthusiastically. She’s really getting into it.

Taking a deep breath, Futaba looks at the two adults expectantly. "So? How was it? No need to clap this loud."

Lala snorts. This was amusing in its own way. A very weird way, admittedly, but amusing nonetheless. "You... kind of sounded like someone snuck you a sample of Testogel and now you're addicted. But it's very... characteristic?"

She giggles before immediately assuming a dramatic pose once more. With a theatrical voice, she proclaims: "I lost my gender in the accident and now the only things that make me happy are thrifting, alcohol and testosterone! Fear me."

Futaba then turns to Yasutora, eyes gleaming and eager to hear feedback.

He nods with the tiniest hint of a smile. "Feels good, right? Liberating."

"Oh," Futaba says, clearly not expecting a question back. "I guess... it did feel nice. Like I really was someone else, even if my method acting was probably not the best."

“You get it," Yasutora replies. “For me, when I become Bunny-chan, it feels like putting on a mask. I can be whoever I want with drag, and for me that's a pastel lolita in a skintight bunny suit who poledances."

"Whoa, information overload," Futaba says. "But... I think I kinda get it now. I know aaall about masks, after all. But! To properly come to a conclusion, I need to conduct more experiments!"

"Then feel free to come in anytime, with our without Aki-chan. As long as the place is still empty, I'll do your makeup for you, honey," Lala says with a smile. "And I think Yasutora-chan has taken a liking to you too, hihi."

The man in question is staring Futaba into the ground right now. She pales as she notices. His eyes narrow.

"When you want to come to one of Bunny's shows sometime, just tell me and I'll find a way to get you in. Special guest privileges.” The way he says it, it’s almost a threat.

"Okay!" the girl squeaks out, completely different to her acting just now.

She looks like there's a question hanging on the tip of her tongue, but in that moment, Crossroads' door opens with a chime and cold air comes in from outside.

"I'm back! And I’ve got dumplings. Took a bit longer because the line was too long." Akira comes in, puts a bag of groceries on the next best table and shrugs his coat off. The moment Futaba registers that it's indeed him and not some random customer, glee spreads over her face.

"Akira!" she walks around the counter so he sees her. "I've come to bargain!"

Just like anticipated, the poor boy looks like he forgot his soul at the grocery store. He's paling, jaw slack as he stares at his friend.

After a few more seconds of opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish, he finally finds his voice: "Mama! What did you do!"

"You shouldn't have left the poor thing all alone, Aki-chan. Now this weird guy took her place and only keeps blabbering about testosterone." Lala is more amused at this than she thought.

Futaba raises her hands like a ghost and slowly creeps closer to Akira: "I have eaten all of the broccoli around here in search of the T and now you are next!"

"Oh. Uh. This is a surprise- wait! Don't come closer with that bottle!" Akira backs away, but Futaba only cackles. Soon she's chasing him around the booths, both of them giggling and shouting the weirdest threats and insults Lala has ever heard at each other.

As she watches them, she can't even be mad about the commotion. It's not the strangest thing that has happened at Crossroads during the last few weeks, after all.

* * *

"I am once again here for my crown!" comes a familiar shout from the door. Lala looks up, her lips immediately curling up in a smile. Futaba strides into Crossroads like she owns the place—by now it's probably an amalgamation of performance and genuine comfort at being here. 

She continues: "And I require your strongest potions, potion seller! Raspberry soda, please and thank you!"

Lala smirks. Futaba just had to pick out tonight to make her comeback, huh? She's eager to see how this will play out.

And sure enough, both Futaba and Ann freeze as their eyes meet.

"Futaba-chan?" Ann finds her voice first, stirring her drink excitedly. "You come here too? Oh wow, Lala never told me!"

"O-Oh? Ann?" Futaba grows pale. Huh. Strange. From everything the girls told her about their little friend group, Lala always thought them meeting here by chance would make them ecstatic. Instead, Futaba looks ready to bolt.

"Come have a seat, these cocktails are sooo good!" Ann continues. "Say, what was that about a crown?"

Futaba squeaks. "Uh, nothing! Just a saying!"

Oh. So that's how it is.

"Ah, you would not believe this, Ann-chan!" Lala starts with more drama than necessary. "Futaba-chan here actually got into drag a few days ago."

"Oh really?" Ann's eyes suddenly gleam in interest. Even with the light being dim, Lala can clearly see Futaba gulping down, growing ever smaller under Ann's mischievous eyes. 

"You really have to let me do your make-up, then! Oh, what do you say we do it right now?" Ann continues, clapping her hands together, probably already thinking about what look she could force on Futaba. 

"Uh, Ann, please don't-"

"And how about I do your hair too? Now that I think about it, you would look really cute with a bob cut! Oh, maybe you'd let me cut your hair? But we totally have to try braids on you first!"

Lala sees the exact moment Futaba knows she can't get away from this.

And while Ann drags a struggling and screaming Futaba to the backrooms, Lala thinks the least she can do to thank her for entertaining her these past few days is make an extra big Raspberry Fizz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> futaba: can I borrow this shirt akira?  
> akira: do NOT fucking touch. taking goro to big bang burger tonight
> 
>   
> If I don't get my drag king representation I will just make my own. nyehehe.  
> also love the idea of the "scary-looking guy" who's so intense even Akira shivers secretly being a drag queen and totally into lolita fashion and cute stuff. this is the same boy who wasn't afraid of teasing yakuza gun daddy Iwai. having a total blast with making the Crossroads patrons queer and giving them an actual personality.  
> shoutout to my trans youth group who came up with the excellent name "Bunny Tyler" yesterday. I've never laughed harder.  
> thank you for reading so far!!!<3 you're all so lovely!!!!!
> 
> also  
> akira: I can't believe futaba maxed out her guts stat without having to eat a burger twice the size of her head each night


	4. Haru (Violence + Accessories)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets just a liiittle bit more intense than the last ones:
> 
> TW for the aftermath of violence (bruises and mention of possible trauma) and for mentions of stabbing.  
> There's no written out violence, though. It mostly focuses on wound care.  
> There's a really, really and by that I mean REALLY small mention of past suicidal thoughts due to trans identity. 
> 
> All of these sound worse than the actual content, but better to be safe than sorry. Take care! <3

It's a slow night at Crossroads. Lala Escargot has never felt more connected to her chosen last name as she's sluggishly moving around the bar, putting away dishes after she's done cleaning them and smoking cigarette after cigarette. Her patrons seem to mirror her mood as Machiko absentmindedly stirs her drink, wearing her usual frown, and Ichiko nearly falls asleep on the counter.

While she appreciates a less hectic shift once in a while, with the events of the past few weeks, she has to admit that she's not used to the peace and quiet anymore. It's almost strange to be here and not have Makoto, Ann or Futaba occupying a seat and keeping her or her patrons entertained.

Huh. She supposes that's what has been happening. For once, she is on the receiving end: While she usually is responsible for keeping her customers' moods up, the girls have reversed the game on her and instead entertained her with various stories about college, crushes or just the newest insights into their little self-discoveries. Sometimes, only their banter with Akira is enough to bring life to her little queer bar that's not usually this animated.

So Lala almost feels relieved when the door swings open and in stumbles a young girl with fluffy short hair in a pink dress who could fit right into Akira's little group of friends. 

Almost. 

The purple bruises on her bare arms and face that become apparent as she staggers towards the bar with unfocused eyes are enough to set her immediately into motion.

"Machiko-san, please watch the bar for a bit," Lala mumbles as she brushes past the frozen woman. "Honey, are you alright? What happened?" she calls out to the girl.

Her head raises slowly. At least she's receptive. She seems to force a smile. "Oh, I must be a worrying sight, aren't I?" she mumbles, her voice tiny and broken. "I just... need to rest for a moment..." 

And as she mutters out those words, her eyes fall shut immediately. Lala has only a few seconds to reach out and catch the girl before she falls over in exhaustion. She feels heavy in her arms, probably leaning her full weight on Lala. Only letting out a strangled sob, she immediately burrows into Lala's chest, obviously tired and worn out from whatever happened to her.

"Oh dear, we need to lie you down, come along," Lala whispers soothingly, hooking one of her arms around her shoulders and dragging the girl along with her as best as she can. She spots Ichiko sitting up, now wide awake.

"Lala-chan, should I..." she starts, but the woman in question waves her off.

"I can handle this. No police until we know what happened." This is Shinjuku after all. And cops don't take too kindly to drama in the red-light district.

Lala manages to pull the girl into the backrooms and lay her down on a plush couch. She carefully removes the straps of her bag from her shoulder and puts said thing on the ground next to her. The poor thing's breathing comes out quick and shallow and Lala gets her some water first, grabbing a package of Kit Kat too from her stash in case the girl needs something for her blood sugar levels.

When she returns and pulls a chair to her side, her eyes are open at least, brown irises staring up at Lala. She moves her mouth as if to speak, but Lala shushes her with her index finger. "Ah ah, no talking until you have drunken something. Here, I'll help you sit up."

With their combined efforts, they manage to lean the girl up against the backrest to swallow down some water before she collapses down onto her back again. "Thank you," she mumbles, still sounding a bit too weak for Lala’s tastes.

Lala is immediately worried by her apparently not questioning her surroundings and just accepting any and all help. How easily could that trust be abused? "Oh dear. Do you want some sweets? Stay here, I'll get the first aid kit, that bruise on your cheek looks nasty. Don't worry, Mama Lala will take care of you now."

"Mama Lala," she repeats in a daze, her voice sweet and high. "I don't have a mom..."

Lala's heart breaks immediately.

She quickly moves out to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. But before she does so, she splashes her face with water, taking a good look in the mirror to ground herself.

Yes, it's still Lala staring back at her, with all her eye bags, wrinkles and years of experience under her belt. Lala, who has helped adults and children likewise through their struggles and who's known for always having an open ear and heart. Not a teenager, hopelessly lost on the streets of Shinjuku, begging people for change and thinking about what's worse: death as a woman or a life pretending to be a man. 

No, never again.

This has no business making her emotional, especially not when she's supposed to concentrate on taking care of the injured girl. She could get weak about motherly feelings and how she relates to being alone and beaten up later. The poor thing is probably confused and dazed and just blurted out whatever. For now, first aid comes first lest she wants the girl to have a reminder of this incident on her face for at least a few weeks that could have been prevented with a bit of wound care.

She takes a deep breath, wipes her face off, careful to not smudge the generous amount of makeup on her face, and leaves the bathroom room with the first aid kit in hand.

When Lala returns, she's pleased to find the girl sitting up and munching on a Kit Kat. Yet her eyes are vacant as they stare at the wall. She doesn't even indicate that she noticed Lala coming back.

"How are you feeling?" Lala says as softly as she can while taking a seat.

The girl snaps out of it and turns to Lala in surprise. "Oh... a bit better now. I apologise for worrying you..." Her voice isn't as fragile as before, but something about the words is off-putting to Lala.

"You're clearly not fine. Lie down and rest a bit, dear. I'll take care of that wound on your face. Is it okay if I touch you for that?"

It takes the girl ages to first register the words and then actually lie back down. She murmurs something affirmative while doing so, which is good enough confirmation for Lala that she can care for her without feeding into whatever trauma she might have carried away from her encounter. In the girl's hands is still the half-eaten Kit Kat. She's holding onto it like a lifeline.

Lala adjusts the pillow under her head so she's lying more comfortably and then gets to work: She disinfects the wound with antiseptic wipes, removing dirt from it—the girl probably fell down, the other bruises on her body speaking of a fight that led to it—and then carefully applies ointment. When she slowly dresses the wound, the girl stirs a bit, groaning softly, likely in pain.

"It's okay, darling," Lala reaches out slowly so she can see the movement and not be startled by it and strokes her hair gently. "The pain will only get better." The girl closes her eyes, humming in bliss. A small weight falls from Lala's chest as she sees that the action helps with calming her.

As she's cleaning and wrapping gauze around the other wounds on the girl's arms, Lala finds her mind straying. Now that she's got her safely lying on the sofa and took care of the worst injuries, the question pops once again into her mind: what could have happened to a sweet girl such as her? She shudders just thinking about it. Luckily, she showed no sign of anything even worse than physical assault. But her injuries are bad. Whoever hit her had some serious intention behind those punches.

"I brought you some aspirin too, if you wanna take it. Should I give you the glass?"

Lala almost misses her nodding. Luckily, it only seems to be the tiredness washing over her now and nothing more serious.

She helps her sit up, puts the Kit Kat back on the small table in front of the sofa and brings the glass to her lips. This time, she eagerly drinks it all at once. Lala is glad for her cooperation—the easier they get this over with, the sooner she will feel better.

"You can rest here a bit or take a nap, if you want. I'll stay close by. No one will harm you."

The girl smiles serenely. If not for the plaster on her face, one might not suspect that anything bad could have happened to her. "A nap sounds good," she mumbles and shuts her eyes again. "Thank you..."

Lala's lips quiver. A sure signal that she should be getting out by now. Nevertheless, she takes a shaky breath and pulls the blanket over her, tucking her in carefully as if she was handling a newborn kitten.

Taking one last look at her to convince herself she's alright for now, Lala leaves the room, closing the door behind her quietly even with her shaking hands. When did they start shaking? And why is it suddenly such a drag just to put one foot in front of the other?

As Lala comes back out into the red lights of Crossroads, she feels like she entered a whole other world.

And suddenly, it hits her all at once.

Lala prides herself in knowing that even if the world makes sure that she has the worst day ever, there's not a hint of it on her face, especially not when in front of customers. But both Machiko and Ichiko are immediately on her feet once they take just a single look at her.

"Mama Lala," Machiko says, full of worry. "Are you alright?"

"I am. No need to worry about me, dear," Lala says. It's meant to come out strong, to ground her, but instead her voice cracks mid-sentence. She fans her face and puts on a laugh: "God, I'm a bit shaken up!"

"Don't pull that shit with me, Lala-chan," Ichiko bristles and moves a stool behind her, pushing Lala down the next second. She plops on the seat without protest.

Lala takes a deep breath. "Just... give me a minute to calm down, girls." Yes. Just a minute and then she'll fix her makeup and maybe make something to eat for the girl.

Only a minute. But she doesn't count the seconds to make sure it's really only one.

"You always give the best hugs," Machiko says with a genuine softness in her voice. “I think I can finally pay you back now."

When she leans down and engulfs her into a hug, Lala doesn't protest. When Ichiko puts a hand on her and rubs soothing circles on her back, she also doesn't say anything. Not even when they hand her a tissue. And then another.

Just a minute more and she’ll be back to her strong self.

* * *

An hour later, Lala Escargot has a fresh coat of makeup on her face and new determination in her eyes as she opens the door to one of the backrooms. To her surprise, the girl is actually sitting up, eating the remains of the opened Kit Kat. She smiles as she sees Lala.

"Don't worry, I only just woke up," she says as if reading Lala's thoughts.

"How are you?" Lala asks, coming closer and sitting down in the same spot as before, inspecting her wounds as she does. The gauze and plasters are still in place. Good.

"I'm fine now, I think," she says, gently putting the empty wrapper back on the table. "Thank you for taking care of me. I just went to the first place that looked safe... I'm so sorry for putting such a responsibility on you." She seems genuinely upset. Lala almost pulls her into another hug, but restrains herself.

"It's not a problem at all, sweetie. Although I do think you should be more careful than just waltzing into a random bar. You're lucky it was Mama Lala's place."

She looks away and flushes. "Mama Lala-san... Uh, I'm sorry if I said anything weird before. I was not in my right mind."

Oh dear, she remembers her little slip up? She looks so embarrassed that Lala wants nothing more than to adopt her for real this instant and take her under her wing.

How many daughters are too many?

"Just call me Lala-chan or stick to Mama Lala. No need for pleasantries. As long as you're in my bar, you're like family to me." Lala gives her a reassuring smile. The girl smiles back.

"I'm Haru Okumura! Thank you again for taking care of me." She tries to stand up, but then thinks better of it and just bows down while sitting.

The name rings a bell. Lala gets a flash of news reports—something about some CEO who died? She would have to look it up later. For now, the girl's—Haru's—background is unimportant.

"I'm glad you're looking better, Haru-chan," Lala says. "Now, I'm sorry if you're dreading this conversation, but care to tell me what happened?"

Her lips press together in a tight line and she looks at the ground in sadness. "That... was my ex-fiancé. He... followed me around and said something about suing me for calling off the engagement. After a while, he snapped, and... well."

Sometime during her short recap, she started trembling ever so slightly. Lala moves before she can think about it and drapes the blanket around her shoulders. Haru looks at her in confusion, then snuggles into the sudden warmth. "Ah... thank you. Your perfume is nice!"

Lala can't help smiling. Maybe the floral aroma even helped calm her or something. "Thank you, Haru-chan. Oh dear, I'm so glad you got away from that creep. He didn't touch you inappropriately, did he?" she asks, her former worries coming back.

Only after the words are out does she realise that the question could make her uncomfortable, but luckily, Haru doesn't seem bothered at all as she shakes her head. "No... he tried that in the past, but learnt his lesson."

"Apparently not really, though, if he stalks you to the red-light district, of all places," Lala scoffs.

"Is that where we are? Oh... I was actually on my way to the Mylord mall to pick up a dress I've commissioned."

"Mylord? That's quite far from here," Lala realises. "Oh my, this asshole sure has stamina to spare. Hun, why didn't you call the cops on him or something?"

"That... didn't work the last time," she sighs. "I've started relying on myself."

Lala can absolutely understand that after years of experience.

She wants to ask more. Wants to know exactly who this guy is and send half of Shinjuku after him to make sure he never lays a hand on a sweet girl like Haru again. Or any girl. Or guy.

But the silence between them is already growing heavier as Haru sinks deeper into the couch, eyes fixated on the empty wrapper, clearly looking through it as she probably gets lost in her own head again.

Lala scrambles for anything to say that won't bring more negative experiences up. Police are clearly no option right now. Maybe later. So... 

"How... how does the other guy look?" It's a quick attempt to lighten the mood, albeit one carelessly spoken. What does Lala expect? That this soft-looking girl threw a punch back?

"Huh?" Haru is confused. Lala curses herself.

Nevertheless, she commits and elaborates: "Did you land a hit on him? Or at least cussed him out? God knows he deserves it."

At that, realisation seems to dawn on her. "Oh!" she exclaims. And then, in a much more energetic voice, she blurts out: "I stabbed him."

The words effectively render Lala speechless. This... was not how she imagined her evening to be going. Not that she's against self-defence—she's glad Haru seemed to knew how to fight back—but this...

"Oh," Lala mumbles, trying to process this information and reminding herself to not think of the worst. Stabbing could mean anything from just... poking him with a very sharp pencil or accidentally hitting his shoulder with a pocket knife in self-defense. No matter what it is, it was justified.

Haru seems to realise her slip-up now because she grows even paler the next second. "Oh no, why did I...! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... I really... oh no..."

And Lala will be damned if she doesn't get the girl out of her downwards spiral before it can escalate, so she too blurts out the next best thing that comes to mind: "Did you at least get him in the balls?"

Her mouth snaps quiet. Lala curses herself for the hundredth time tonight, thinking she was too blunt. She really lost her touch, huh? 

Contrary to her expectations, Haru's eyes suddenly light up in what is obvious glee. "No... I think I hit the stomach. Although, that would have probably been a better idea..." She chuckles. 

Lala realises that not even Futaba's gremlin laugh when she's planning something ever gave her shivers like Haru's does. Maybe she underestimated this girl. No, scratch that, she definitely underestimated her.

"You should have," Lala finally adds after another moment, because even if she's anxious about this girl stabbing someone apparently without a second thought, she'll never not support fighting back against your abusers to protect your own life. 

And some people simply deserve to feel pain in their most prized body parts. 

Haru nods. Then, a flash of panic crosses her face. “By the way, did I have a bag with me when I came in?”

Lala looks down and notices she accidentally put it in a spot the girl couldn’t see from her position. “No worries, dear, it’s right here,” she says as she picks up the purse and gives it to Haru.

Contrary to Lala’s expectation, she immediately latches on the accessory dangling from it instead of looking for her phone or something. “How relieving,” she exclaims, “I couldn’t have imagined losing this!”

She’s probably talking about the keychain. Lala takes a closer look at it. It seems to be some popular mascot she has seen before... Ah, of course, it’s the same thing Makoto is practically crazy for. Her pencil case, notebooks, even her smartphone cover are all adorned with the face of this menacing little black and white bear.

“Is that your good luck charm, honey?” She asks her with a smile. “It’s cute.”

“Yes! It’s a keepsake I’ve had for a long time now.” The smile on her face is warm and Lala is glad to see her this happy after everything that happened.

And as sudden as it appeared, her smile falls and she pulls her legs up to her chest. “Lala-chan… what if he... reports me? Would people even believe me that it was self-defence?"

Lala hesitates to answer. She's right. It would be hard to get taken seriously. But that's a thought for later—for now, she wants her to calm down and be safe. "If you get the right lawyer, it will work out," Lala quickly says to assure her.

"My friend's sister is a good lawyer!" she exclaims, but then she seems to realise something. "Oh, silly me, I forgot she's a prosecutor..."

Lala remembers Makoto talking about something similar. Does everyone and their friend have a lawyer sister nowadays?

"If push comes to shove, I have connections, my dear, so don't you worry," Lala promises her. "But for now, there's more important concerns. Do you have any guardians that I can call to pick you up? You can stay here too, of course, but we don't want people worrying about you."

Haru hesitates for a moment. "I don't... but there's someone who always takes care of me. Or rather, his caretaker. It's... complicated. Do you have a phone?"

"Of course, dear. Can you stand? You can make that call and then wait with me in the bar."

"That would be nice. Thank you!" Haru smiles and tries to stand up. She's a bit wobbly, but overall secure as she takes a few steps forward, her bag secure in her hands. "My head hurts a bit, but nothing bad," she says.

Lala still hovers right beside her as she leads her outside. She wouldn't want the poor girl to bump into any walls or something.

Ichiko turns to the pair first once they are back at the counter. "There's our sleeping beauty!" she grins. "Lala condemned me to be the cook for you, so you better eat up."

Haru bows down quickly to both Ichiko and a worried-looking Machiko. "I'm sorry for causing so much trouble."

"What did I tell you about not being trouble, honey?" Lala sighs and urges her towards a stool at the counter where she takes a seat. Afterwards, she presses the phone into her hand. "Go and make that call, sweetie. Here's Crossroads' card so you can tell them the address."

While Haru is busy explaining the situation to the person on the other line, Lala plops down in her seat with a sigh. She feels exhausted as if she ran a marathon this morning.

"You did good, Mama," Machiko says, smiling sadly. "Is she alright...?" She then asks in a much quieter voice.

Lala throws a cautious glance to Haru. She doesn't seem to be listening as she's currently telling them the address.

"Some sort of domestic violence," Lala says as quietly as she can. "I'm trusting you with that, Machiko-san."

"Don't worry, Mama Lala, you know me. If you want a breather, I can take care of the girl for some time?"

"It's alright. She will get picked up soon anyway."

Once Haru is off the call, Ichiko places a bowl of miso soup and a glass of water in front of her. The girl looks embarrassed, but grateful all the same at the kind gesture. "How can I ever thank you all for taking care of me?" she says.

"Get better, that will be enough thanks for Lala-chan," Ichiko laughs. "Now eat up before it gets cold."

Haru quietly says her thanks before putting the bowl to her lips, tentatively taking a sip. "It's really good!" she exclaims, smiling brightly at Ichiko, before taking another sip. The woman preens under the praise.

"Hah, of course it is. After all, I made it."

Haru finishes her soup soon with a warm smile on her face. She looks over to Lala, but her eyes get caught on the potted plant on the counter beside her.

"Oh! You've even got some flowers in here!" she exclaims and slides out of her seat, coming closer. “This is an anemone...”

"A customer gave that one to me. Over there there's another plant that's all leaves, if you wanna have a look at that one too?" Lala chuckles. "Someone's a little plant momma, huh?"

Haru nods vigorously. "Yes! I'm actually studying agriculture and business management in college. Oh, this one actually doesn't look too well, though..."

"Tell me about it, dear," Lala sighs. "I think it's the missing sunlight. As soon as there's a bud that looks promising, half of the little bastard just wilts, no matter the fertiliser or water."

"I think that's not the issue. Anemones like shady places," Haru says, carefully breaking off a few wilted leaves. "The soil is wrong. Anemones require very specific things, such as stinging nettle leaves in the soil."

"Spoiled little bastards," Lala laughs.

Haru chuckles too. "You're right. But it's worth it, they are really colourful once they are in full bloom. May I... cut a few stems and leaves off? I think the plant would like that. Oh, can I do the same with that monstera back there?"

Her eyes glitter. For the first time tonight, Lala sees her excited about something and not caught in the memories of what happened to her. So who would she be to refuse her?

"Go wild, sweetie. I don't know the first thing about plants, so I'm making you Crossroads' gardener for tonight."

Haru smiles. "Just tonight?"

"Hah!" Lala exclaims. "Come over anytime you want for plant care. Those little things could surely use it."

Haru's eyes brighten at the offer, so Lala quickly adds: "And not just for the plants. If you need a good drink or someone to talk to, or just help with whatever happens after today, Mama Lala has your back."

With a soft giggle, Haru nods. "Thank you, Mama Lala." And then, she suddenly comes around the counter and clumsily embraces Lala—Lala, who is too stunned to react at first.

"You're a darling," she coos after a moment, hugging her back. "Take the car or a taxi from now on if you come to Shinjuku. How will I sleep at night in my old age, knowing you’re out alone?”

"I will!" Haru squeezes her tighter for a quick second before letting go.

It's as if all the stress flowed out of Lala in the last ten seconds. Why was she so anxious before? Whatever happens will happen. Haru won't be alone to deal with the fallout, she has Crossroads on her side and that friend and his caretaker she talked about.

After watching Haru work for a while—she even hummed a bit as she took care of the plants—Lala voices a question she had for a while now. 

"By the way, hun, who's that guy who's coming to pick you up?"

Haru looks up. ”Ah, he's a friend from Yongen-Jaya and his caretaker... It's funny, when I said the name 'Crossroads', he laughed and said he already knows where this place is."

And as if on cue, the door to Crossroads swings open in a manner that has become so familiar to Lala that she could probably recognise it in her sleep.

  
"... You've got to be kidding me."

* * *

In hindsight, Lala should know by now that all roads lead to Akira Kurusu. Meeting his caretaker was certainly an experience, though—she expected a thorough shovel talk about Akira's involvement at Crossroads. What she got instead was a defeated groan from the man—Sojiro Sakura, she remembers—and the request to keep being a confidant to the boy that he could trust. 

Lala only scoffed. As if she ever had a choice with the way the kid wormed himself into her life and awoke maternal instincts she didn't even know she had.

At least she now has a consistent source on Haru's well-being. It's a wonder Akira doesn't grow tired yet of Lala's constant interrogation. Admittedly, her questions decreased in number once she learnt that there would be no charges against Haru, but that doesn't mean she isn't concerned for the girl anymore. Trauma doesn't suddenly go away once your name is in the clear.

Akira should know that better than anyone. It's probably the reason why he always makes sure to keep Lala updated.

And soon enough, Haru starts coming to Crossroads on her own terms, no reason this time if you don't count her goal of nursing every drooping plant at Crossroads back to full health. She even brings in new plants: A hibiscus that blooms in bright pink next to the jukebox, gerberas in small pots to decorate the tables, an angel's trumpet that produces more wilted leaves than flowers in bloom.

But Lala never touches the plants except to water them. They are still Haru's and she likes to know that the girl has a place here that's more tangible than just the metaphor.

And over time, Haru began to open up in the same way the flowers bloomed after enough care. Lala finally learnt of her connection to Okumura Foods. About her dream of opening a small café. The way she got to know Akira. Why Makoto is the one person in life that she can always count on and who always has her back. How that keychain is a gift from her and how Haru would always hold it to calm down.

"I've been thinking," Haru starts one evening. "Mako-chan said she likes how green the place has gotten, but she never really knows how to care for the plants. How about getting a few cacti for the windowsills? I know she likes those!"

Lala chuckles. "Is there something you have to tell me?"

"W-What! I don't know what you could mean?" And as expected, immediately after that Haru starts vehemently denying more things than Lala has ever brought to question. 

She grins to herself. Over time, she also learnt this about Haru: The more something that's embarrassing to her is true, the harder she will try to deny it.

Lala soon puts her out of her misery, as fun as it is to listen to her rambling. "It's alright, sweetie. Go and get your cacti, but don't expect me to trim those little bastards. My hands are rough enough as is."

Haru's lips press together tightly. "Okay! But I'm not just doing this for Mako-chan!"

"Dear, that's the opposite of what you started your request with."

"I really didn't mean it like that!"

And thus, it begins anew. 

Tonight, Crossroads is lively as always with the sounds of people talking and clinking glasses. And like every other night now, there’s a girl at the counter who brings a fresh breath of air and smiles to the patrons’ faces just by being here. 

Recently, Lala started to realise that ever since she came to care for her part-timer and every girl who stumbled into Crossroads one way or another, the atmosphere of the whole place shifted. Haru once called it a place to love, smiling warmly as she helped Lala clean dishes. Lala couldn’t find a better phrase even if she tried.

She wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to go a bit more into Haru's character and motivations and especially into MakoHaru stuff, but it didn't fit, be it due to atmosphere or word limit haha. So chapter 6 will have the MakoHaru we're all craving ;)
> 
> I hope the tone shift wasn't too sudden, but this was actually one of the first chapters I've written for this story!  
> Thank you for all your lovely comments and kudos so far. They motivate me like nothing else <3


	5. Sumire (Moving on + Injury)

"Guess who I invited here tonight?" Akira purrs, hovering around Lala, obviously procrastinating whatever he should be doing on a busy Sunday night at Crossroads. It won't be long before the place comes to life with more customers than on any other day of the week. Lala still keeps herself from snapping at him to stock up on soda, solely because she's actually interested in what he has to share.

"Another girl, huh?" she sighs. "And stop that. You're like an oversized cat, begging people for attention."

"Is it working?" His eyes gleam as he swipes a cookie from the bowl Lala just refilled. "Meow?"

She slaps his hand away as he displays the guts to go for a second one. "You've gotten too comfortable, kitty. By the way, where's your getup? I'm not used to seeing you without lipstick at this point."

Akira laughs. "Didn't want to scare her away when she comes in later. She’s a bit new to all that.” 

When Lala throws the keys to the storage room at him, he doesn't protest. "Go and stock up on beverages," she tells him. "But first, share some details about this girl." 

"So I noticed that you're adopting all my female friends," Akira hums, his voice taking on a more teasing tone. "And since there's only one girl left you don't know, I took the liberty of inviting her here tonight."

"Watch what you say," Lala says, "or I might revoke your 'Mama' privileges."

"But you're interested, right? Mama?"

Lala sighs. "How many girl friends do you even have?"

"I don't count," Akira laughs. "But those five are closest. Hey, I have male friends too!"

"I'll believe it when I see it. Oh, what about that guy Ann mentioned? Goro-chan?"

Akira winces and immediately grows visibly uncomfortable. Lala smirks. Thought she forgot about it already?

"That suffix sounds so wrong..." he mumbles. "Anyways, I'm gonna go to the storage room now-"

"Don't you dare, you troublemaker!"

“See ya!"

Damn him and his ability to dodge Lala every time she tries to get in his way. Sometimes, Akira truly is like a cat, dexterous and quiet when he wants to be and able to get out of any situation that inconveniences him.

Lala would probably not admit it out loud, but not knowing about her part-timer's love escapades bothers her more than it should. He trusts her with everything else, so why not boy stories?

Unless he's actually serious about it and wants to wait before talking about it too much. But it could also be that whoever's in luck is someone who would simply not pass Lala's check and Akira knows that.

She sighs to herself. Is this her life now? Playing actual Mama for a ragtag group of queer kids? Eager to give men knocking at her sweetie's door the shovel talk or just chase them with the hayfork on sight?

Not that she minds this new lifestyle.

Once he comes back, Akira skilfully evades any more questions she throws his way and it's not long before the door opens and an unfamiliar girl walks in. 

Her posture is stiff and shy, her hands clenched into tight fists as she takes in the unfamiliar surroundings. The way her long red hair and glasses obscure her face, hiding her away from the world, reminds Lala a bit too much of Futaba.

This must definitely be the girl. She looks too out of place to be here of her own volition. Sure enough, Akira comes around to greet her.

"Hey Sumi," he says loud enough for Lala to catch her name.

The girl's eyes light up immediately, a stark contrast to her apprehensiveness just now. "Senpai!" she exclaims and comes closer. Lala thinks she's going in for the hug, but the girl just politely puts her hands together and bows. "Thank you for inviting me out!"

Lala watches Akira guide her to a booth and then sit down and talk with her. Should she make them a drink or something? Or bring out the board games? Only now does she realise that fate literally threw the last four girls directly at her, giving her no chance to actually avoid them even if she wanted to, while this time she's just faced with... something too normal for her. Just a nice girl having an evening out with her friend, who's coincidentally jobbing here.

With a small sigh—how many does that make tonight?—Lala turns to her other customers. She appreciates Akira's sentiment, but it's up to the girl how she's going to feel at Crossroads.

So she leaves them alone and lets Ichiko talk her ear off.

After a good while, Akira taps her on the shoulder.

"Hey, Mama? Can you bring Sumi a ginger ale while I heat up something to eat? I'll just put it on my tab."

Lala scoffs. "Non-alcoholic only, before you get any ideas. Oh, but you don't mean to tell me the redhead seriously wants ginger ale?” Talk about puns. “She does know we have mocktails too?"

"Yeah, about that..." Akira chuckles nervously. "Her first choice was a... Carrot Explosion."

Oh no. Of all possible choices, she had to want a Carrot Explosion. There’s a reason it’s at the bottom of the menu in smaller font with a higher price.

"Say no more, honey. Go on, I'll bring your girl a bottle."

The Carrot Explosion was originally a parody drink created for Bunny Tyler's drag performances back when Crossroads was still able to hold her audience size, consisting of carrots, more carrots, yet even more carrots and spinach. All topped off with a generous amount of edible glitter. Lala hates the drink, but nostalgia makes her leave it on the menu.

It's been ages since someone had the guts to point to it and exclaim that they want exactly that. Lala is tempted to just make it for her, but then again: grabbing a bottle of ginger ale is quicker and saves her from figuring out what to do with the opened bottles of carrot and spinach juice.

"You ordered a ginger ale, honey?" Lala says as she approaches the girl. 

Her eyes look up and a genuine, even if shy smile curls up her lips. "Oh, my senpai did! I really wanted the carrot drink."

Huh. So she really is serious about it. "Oh hun, you don't want to drink that, believe me." She puts the glass and bottle on the table in front of her and even fills the glass for her. "Your senpai, hm? I believe he has a name," Lala can't resist saying.

"It's a habit," the girl responds, getting a bit red in the face and twirling a strand of hair between her fingers, similar to how Akira does it when he's getting flustered.

Before Lala can think better of it, she sinks down on the seat next to her. "So you're his underclassman?"

"Uh, yeah! I'm a second year at Shujin Academy, Sumire Yoshizawa." She quickly stands up to bow and immediately plops down on her seat again. Lala thinks it's adorable.

"Call me Lala-chan, dear."

"Senpai told me about you before," Sumire giggles. "I can't believe he wanted me to be here while working. I'm so happy!"

Lala chuckles too. "Yes, he keeps bringing his female friends here to entertain him while he's on the clock. I let it slide because you lot are lovely company."

She must have said something bad, because Sumire's face immediately falls the next second. "Is that so..." she mumbles, forcing a giggle, but her voice is quieter than before and betrays her.

"Oh dear," Lala says, "I didn't mean you're just one of them. Akira has a lot of love to give, you know. He called you one of his closest friends before."

"He did?" Sumire is visibly shocked. "I'm... I'm glad! Senpai is... my closest friend," she laughs nervously.

Oh dear indeed. Lala should find it adorable, but instead her alarm bells start ringing. Quietly, for now, but they are there.

"He's a good kid. But enough about him. As long as he's cooking something up for you, mind if I keep you company, sweetie?"

"Not at all! Thank you," she says, but her gaze strays to the counter in nervousness.

Lala chooses her words carefully. She doesn't want to scare another girl who apparently only feels safe around Akira in unfamiliar environments into stuttering. "So, tell me a bit about your interests, Sumi-chan. You look athletic, are you on a sports team?"

She nods. "My passion is gymnastics. I'm actually aiming for nationals now!"

"My, how ambitious," Lala smiles. "I'm sure you can do it."

"Yes!" Sumire smiles brightly. "Ever since Senpai started coming to practice to cheer me on, I feel like nothing stands in my way!"

An adorable sentiment. Lala's alarms start ringing louder, though.

"Yes, he's good at finding the right words to motivate," Lala says. She quickly changes the topic right after: "I know someone who did something similar to gymnastics in the past. Always had to take care of her injuries because she was reckless, hah. I hope you take better care of yourself than her." Lala smiles fondly as memories come back to her. She's always been the one to take care of other people's injuries, huh?

"I try to," Sumire assures her. "But even if I get hurt, Senpai promised to take care of me, so it's okay."

That certainly does sound like Akira, but...

The alarms are blaring by now.

Lala tries to keep a strained smile. "So if you do sports, maybe you're passionate about healthy cooking? God knows no one wanted a Carrot Explosion in ages."

Sumire giggles cutely. "Yes! I’ve recently started making bentos for me and Senpai! Although I'm not sure on the flavour yet... I tried curry for everything, since I know he likes that!"

The blaring sirens in her head finally get too loud to ignore and no, Lala can't do this any longer. Not when she knows the answer to her fourth, fifth and sixth icebreaker already.

"Dear, don't take this the wrong way, but you don't have to cater to that boy with everything you do," she blurts out.

Sumire looks puzzled. "But... I don't? I'm-I'm just thankful for everything he's done for me!" And in an instant, she gets defensive, her face heating up by the second.

It's all Lala needs to know. She remembers Akira's words from before when asked about a particular boy and suddenly, her heart hurts for the girl in front of her.

Sumire continues defending herself: "He might be important to me, but! But. Uh, he deserves to have someone he can count on... as a friend. Yes-"

"No need to explain, honey," Lala interrupts her, sighing. "I'm more interested in another thing. Say, do you have friends apart from Akira?"

"Uh!" Sumire looks confused. "Wh-Why? I suppose the other Phan- uh, the other girls in my friend group hang out with me sometimes... Okumura-senpai asked me to take care of her rooftop garden at Shujin... And Sakura-san always wants me to come to her roleplaying game evening, or something?" She gets quiet immediately after, looking down. "I never really accepted, though. I don't really want to bother them."

"You're not a bother, especially not if they invite you. I know those girls enough to tell you that," Lala gives her a smile that is reassuring. "Besides, where would you go if you get into a fight with Akira-chan or something different one day?"

"We never fight!" Sumire says quickly. Too quickly. "And even if, I know that Goro-kun is always there for me too! He's, uh, my other good friend. See?”

Lala pales, her chest constricting. It just keeps getting worse, huh?

"That's... nice to hear, my dear," she forces herself to say. "But... if you ever need someone to talk to other than these boys, know that Mama Lala here is known for giving the best hugs."

"Ahaha, yeah," Sumire says nervously, once again twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Lala can see that the offer practically floats over her head. "I... will remember that."

The next few minutes are uncomfortably awkward as both of them dance around their smalltalk. Lala can practically feel it in the air: The girl doesn't want her here anymore, bar owner or not.

So when Akira comes back to her with two plates of reheated curry, Lala knows it's best to leave her alone for the remainder of the evening.

It was worth a try. She just hopes the girl can handle whatever gets thrown her way in the next few weeks without having to rely on Akira.

Heartbreak hurts like nothing else, Lala knows that. But being alone is even worse.

* * *

The only thing that Lala thinks when she takes a closer look at the girl in front of her is that she hasn't stocked up on nearly enough tissues for this.

Sumire sniffles miserably, her glasses askew as she keeps wiping her puffy eyes. "S-Someone... recently told me you give the best hugs?"

And what can Lala do except demonstrate exactly that?

The petite girl immediately burrows into her kimono and Lala hopes it merely sounds like she's using the fabric as a tissue. She strokes her back and hair comfortingly, guiding the girl to sit in a stool at the counter. 

Once she's sure Sumire received enough affection to last the next few minutes, she releases her and brings out a tissue box from below the counter. As she puts it in front of the crying girl, she sees the only other patron at the bar tonight sliding into the seat besides her. It's Kasumi, a normally loudmouthed woman with a short bob cut that Lala has never seen out of a business suit. She looks... different tonight.

In a stark contrast to her usual self, the woman tentatively puts a hand on the girl's back and rubs her thumb between her shoulder blades, probably in an attempt to help at least a bit. Sumire immediately leans into the presence at her side, which Kasumi in turn wasn't prepared for: she flinches a bit back, but once she gathers herself, comes even closer.

Maybe the whole thing hurts Lala just a bit more too because she sees that even her spikiest patron feels awkward when faced with such a situation.

"Sumi-chan, drink something, or you'll have no water left for tears," Lala says empathetically and puts a glass of water in front of her.

"I-I wish," she sniffles and only reaches for a tissue instead of complying. "H-He and- Goro-kun and-"

"Shhh, no need to tell me. I can imagine." Lala strokes through her hair affectionately.

She can practically see the question marks in Kasumi's eyes. Clearing her throat, the woman turns to Sumire and asks: "Boy troubles?"

  
"Worse," Lala answers for her as she just breaks into more tears at the words.

"Damn..." Kasumi murmurs to herself. "Uh, Sumi-chan, right? Just so you know, no boy is worth your time if he makes you feel like that." She sighs and repeats once more: "Damn."

"But he makes me feel special, it's not his fault I'm- I'm-" Sumire breaks off and Lala shoves another tissue at her that she accepts with shaky hands. 

"Just cry it out for now. Mama Lala's got you. And Kasumi-chan is here too."

Suddenly, the girl stills. Then she whips her head to the side, looking at Kasumi with wide eyes. "Your name is... Kasumi-san?" she whispers between sobs.

"Right here, haha," the woman in question looks away, uncomfortable like never before.

Sumire takes a good look at her and Lala wonders what's going on inside her head. After a beat passes, she finally says: "My sister has the same name. But she... she's..."

In the following silence that only gets disrupted once Sumire breaks into more tears, Lala can imagine the word left unsaid, contrary to Kasumi who just stares in confusion.

Taking a deep breath, Lala says: "Honey, just cry it out, it's okay. But can I do anything for you? Do you want some sweets? Another hug?"

Sumire hiccups. "Carrot drink," she mumbles between sobs.

Lala stares hard. Did she mishear? "You... you're really serious? You want a Carrot Explosion?"

She repeats, with a bit more force this time: "Carrot drink."

Lala doesn't care if the opened bottles will clog up space in the fridge. Right now, she'll gladly make a hundred cursed carrot cocktails if it helps the poor girl cope.

* * *

Two carrot explosions and lots of glitter which accidentally got strewn about the counter during the process later, the three women have made themselves comfortable in a booth, Sumire surrounded by the pillows and blankets Futaba insisted on keeping here for when she visits. Crossroads is locked up and closed for the night. Lala can afford a few emergency closures once in a while.

Kasumi insisted on staying. Lala suspects it might have to do with the whole sister thing. Once awkward and not knowing what even to say to the miserable girl, she's now back to her usual, intense self. And weirdly enough, Sumire seems to like it. It's a back and forth with the two: Sumire would talk about a fond memory with Akira and Kasumi would pick it apart and drag him through hell for it.

Lala can only shake her head at it. It feels surreal to degrade her part-timer to a stupid boy who doesn't know what he's missing out by not getting with this girl. Especially when she knows the look in his eyes whenever that boy he was crushing on for the longest time gets mentioned. But she has the feeling that Akira wouldn't mind and even laugh with them if it just gets Sumire to cheer up.

"So then after cancelling on me and saying he has an important exercise in building strength that evening, guess where I bump into him? At Big Bang Burger, trying to eat a hamburger twice the size of his head!" Sumire dramatically gestures around herself, trying to show how large the food in question was. Lala has no trouble believing her.

"Gross!" Kasumi exclaims. "What did you even say to him in that state? Ew, I can't even think about it!"

Sumire giggles. "Obviously I battled him on it. And won!"

"Wait, what?" Kasumi looks mortified. "You- You ate that thing too? Even faster than him?"

"Of course! After all, I need to eat a lot to stay in shape and get strong!" Sumire seems oddly proud of herself and while Kasumi grows paler by the second, Lala finds herself smiling widely.

"You're already strong, honey. You look like the kind of girl who gets the pickles jar open!"

"I do?" Sumire exclaims. Her smile is radiant, but as quickly as it came just now, it falls. "I wish I really was that strong... Then I could just be happy for Senpai and Goro-kun." She blinks a few stray tears away and sniffles once.

"Oh honey," Lala reaches out and strokes her hair, "you're allowed to be sad. And you don't owe those boys anything."

Sumire lets the action happen, but she keeps quiet. Her eyes seem distant, as if she's deep in thought. Lala hopes she's letting the words sink in. Moving on is painful, but letting your emotions run wild instead of bottling them up will make it that much easier.

Finally, she speaks: "I'm sorry for last week, Lala-san."

Huh? Lala blinks. Once, twice. That wasn't what she expected at all.

Sumire continues, her voice small and barely noticeable: "I kept thinking back to what you said... and you were right. You didn't say it outright, but... I should have done things for myself and not just because they made someone else happy. So I'm sorry for troubling you!"

Speechless is not quite the right word, but for some reason, Lala opens her mouth, then closes it again, not knowing what to say. She only now realises that while she tried not to have any prejudices, she wrote the girl off as a lost cause, stuck in her little world with only her senpai. Never would she have thought that her words actually made any impact.

Then again, it could have just been the perfect timing, seeing as Akira apparently got together with that other boy just days later.

"Hah, look at Lala-chan. All puzzled," Kasumi exclaims gleefully.

At that, Lala finds her voice again, if only to scoff. "Watch your mouth, woman. I know enough about you for blackmail."

"Oh, you wouldn't, dearest Lala-chan." Kasumi barks out a laugh, then turns to a confused Sumire. "Girl, you're sharp. As good as Lala is at talking, she's not used to people actually listening. I'm living proof." She gives the cheekiest grin to her.

"Oh! I just... had lots of time to reflect," Sumire says shyly. "It... hurt a lot. And when dad told me to move on, I even lost control and screamed at him. It just feels so bad that I don't even know what to do now that it’s... like this.”

Suddenly, her voice grows quiet, almost a whisper. "In truth, I've known for a while that I can't be with Senpai. I guess... I didn't want to accept it." She chuckles, full of bitterness. "It was so obvious too! The way they were always over each other... I thought he hated him at first, but then I saw how torn he looked when he bumped into Senpai and me hanging out. Like he... forced himself to keep his distance for our sake. And... I understood. Because I felt the same."

Silence settles over Crossroads. No one really knows what to say.

"Do I just keep making him bentos now...?" Sumire breaks the silence after a while.

“No!” both Lala and Kasumi exclaim in unison.

Kasumi barks out a laugh while Lala clears her throat. "Give them to the other girls, if you're so keen on making them. Ann-chan goes to your school, right? That girl enjoys food like no one else."

"Are you sure...?" Sumire doesn't seem sold on the idea. Damn it. Lala would maybe have to tell Ann then to talk to her instead. That girl really needs friends that aren't falling in love with each other and leaving her out.

"She's a menace. Always batting her eyelashes at me for free food. The only one who can keep her in check is her girlfriend," Lala sighs. "So yes, she would gobble it all up in an instant and thank you for hours. Just hang out more with her and you'll see."

"Huh..." Sumire mumbles. "Maybe. We've met up a few times privately, her, me and Senpai, so I already know her a bit better-"

"Urgh, can we not talk about this guy anymore? We're not passing the Bechdel test at this rate!" Kasumi groans. "Lala-chan, this is what I meant when I said Crossroads needs more entertainment!"

"Excuse me, woman," Lala huffs, "I'm enough entertainment already. If you're so keen on having fun, maybe pick up some old hobbies, won't you?"

Kasumi practically growls. "Those times are long over."

"You only say that because you're too lazy, hun."

"Hold your mouth, snail lady! I'll have you know I'm still quite capable at thirty!"

"Why don't you show us, then? Entertain dear Sumi-chan, won't you?"

"Shut it."

Sumire, who was hopelessly caught in the crossfire just now, clears her throat. "Uh, may I ask what you two are talking about...?"

Flipping her hair back cockily, Kasumi keeps quiet, not meeting anyone's eyes, so Lala explains: "Kasumi-chan here did pole-dancing in the past. She stopped because of an injury, but that's long healed. Now she’s just lazy.”

"Really?" Sumire immediately exclaims, for the first time in high spirits tonight. "You have to show me! Please! I've always wanted to learn, but my coach said I have to focus on gymnastics for now..."

That captures Kasumi's interest. "Huh, you do gymnastics?" she asks. "Didn't know girls these days are still interested in that. You know, most people associate different stuff with pole-dancing, and you’re quite young.”

"Not me! Please! I tried practicing on the playground at night, but I just can't seem to learn without someone experienced helping me. Teach me?"

Lala sees how torn Kasumi is. She can't blame her—she is surprised by the turn of events too. But a not-so-small part of her mind already measures out which room at Crossroads would have the most space for a pole and a little practising area. Damn her and always trying to make Crossroads a safe space for every girl who stumbles in in search of one.

"... If you stop frowning about that boy, I'll try." It's the kindest thing Lala has ever heard Kasumi say.

"Really? Thank you very much! I promise I'll work my hardest!" Sumire scrambles to stand up and bows down to Kasumi, who flusters at the action.

"Just... sit back down. Don't be too happy yet. I'll only do it if Lala-chan gets a rotatable pole in here for training!"

Lala laughs. "I was already expecting that. Say, are you two free on Saturday evening? I might know a sports shop in Shinjuku who has what we need..."

* * *

"You're glowing today. Something happen, heartbreaker?" Lala scoffs at her part-timer who can't seem to sit still today. He's got the dopiest smile on his face. 

"Heartbreaker? More like I stole a heart," he chuckles.

He really has no idea, does he? Maybe that's for the better. For him and for Sumire.

"I can see that, darling. Take care to treasure it. And be aware that I'll sit you down the next time you're here and press you for all the details, yes?"

Akira laughs, blushing as red as his lipstick. ”Fair warning, my friends complain that I can't shut up once I start talking about him, so..."

"You're acting as if Mama Lala isn't good at listening to other people's love life stories for hours."

Lala wants to ask him for all the details now. Wants to know if her boy is in safe hands. If it's truly something with potential or just a quick fling. And most of it all, if he remembers to be himself and not pretend to be someone he's not in fear of rejection as he tends to do.

But for this evening, she has already made plans.

The door chimes, and Sumire bounces into Crossroads, all traces of tears and puffy cheeks gone from her face. "Hello! Lala-chan! Akira-senpai!"

"Sumi?" Akira says, confused. Nevertheless, he comes around the counter and walks towards her. "I didn't know you'd come to see me tonight-," he starts, but Sumire just giggles and pushes past him.

"I'm not here for you!" she sing-songs as she hugs Lala briefly. Lala, who never felt more proud of someone who's trying to get over heartbreak than in this moment. "We're going out tonight, right, Lala-chan?"

Lala gives her frozen part-timer a sweet smile. It’s truly amusing how shocked he is. "We're meeting up with Kasumi-chan to go shopping. You'll lock up tonight, right, darling?"

"Uh," Akira says uselessly. Then: "You're- You're ditching me?"

"I don't remember us making plans," Sumire answers with a smile that definitely could hide no ill intent. Of course not.

"Remember to close the windows before leaving!" Lala says as she's grabbing her things. "If it gets any colder in here, you might freeze to the ground for real."

"What- Mama! You're stealing all my friends from me!"

"Maybe I'm just the better company, hun!" Lala ruffles his hair on her way out, taking pride in the bewildered expression still plastered onto his face.

They leave together, giggling like little schoolgirls.

Next time, they will probably ask him to tag along. But for tonight, it's about Sumire and Sumire alone. An outing to take her mind off things, certainly with no space for any past crushes.

And Lala enjoys a good girls’ night out too, once in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> akira you oblivious stupid little fruit  
> anyway. sumigoro friendship propaganda.
> 
> The proficiency patron is really called Kasumi-chan in game. Thought long about how to handle that name without people thinking it's the other Kasumi, then found this solution.  
> Forgive me for namedropping the Bechdel test haha. It's been bumping around my mind for the last few days like that infamous dvd screen saver, asking me if I really took care not to lay the focus too much on Akira and if the girls actually have lives outside of him. It's always a battle between "we don't need you here" and "no come back don't be self-conscious your friends love you" in my mind haha.
> 
> Anyway! I'll be away over the weekend, so the final two chapters will have a bit of delay. I promise they are worth it, though. We see the girls interacting more with each other and Crossroads becoming more and more of a real home for them. And chapter 7 might just have a special event... heh

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on twitter! <3 twitter.com/Laurentiiia


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